SPANISH    GOLD 

.  H  E  SEARCH  PAR;.  ; 

in  §  PI  .. 

:    MAJORiS  .   ...  i   -  i 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 


UNIFORM  EDITION  of  the  WORKS  of 

G.    A.    BIRMINGHAM 

Each, 


LALAGE'S  LOVERS 
SPAN  I S  H  GOLD 
THE  SEARCH  PARTY 
THE  SIMPKINS  PLOT 
THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 


GEORGE    H.    DORAN    COMPANY 

NEW    YORK 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 


BY 

G.  A.  BIRMINGHAM 

AUTHOR  OF  "  SPANISH  GOLD,"  "  LALAGE'S  LOVERS," 
"  THE  SEARCH  PARTY,"  ETC. 


HODDER  &  STOUGHTON 

NEW  YORK 
GEORGE  H.  DORAN  COMPANY 


To  A.  S.  H. 

MY  DEAR  A., 

You  know  how  sharply  and  how  frequently  I  am 
snubbed  on  account  of  the  things  which  appear  in 
my  novels.  You  know  how  much  I  suffer  and  you 
know  how  little  I  deserve  it.  Will  you  defend  me? 

While  this  story  was  appearing  in  the  pages  of 
Cornhill  I  found  myself  more  than  once  in  a  painful 
position.  I  told  you,  I  think,  about  the  lady  who  ex- 
pressed her  anger  so  cruelly  that  I  was  ill  for  a  week 
after  seeing  her  —  actually  in  bed  with  a  horrible 
pain.  The  doctor  gave  the  pain  a  Greek  name,  but 
he  was  mistaken.  You  and  I  know  that  it  was  sim- 
ply a  broken  heart.  I  did  not  tell  you  about  the  gen- 
tleman who  wrote  to  me  on  behalf  of  the  Parents' 
Educational  Union,  and  told  me  that  its  members 
"  are  all  united  in  a  passionate  desire  to  give  every 
chance  of  well-being,  to  their  children."  He  said 
also  —  and  I  felt  this  particularly  keenly  —  that  the 
children  of  these  parents  are  quite  familiar  with  the 
lives  of  kings.  It  is  the  injustice  of  this  which  drives 
me  to  ask  your  help.  You  know  that  J.  J.  Meldon 
is  a  wicked  man  whose  words  and  deeds  I  abominate 
as  heartily  as  my  correspondent  does.  You  know 


vi  INTRODUCTION 

that  Mrs.  Purvis  appears  in  my  pages  as  a  parent 
with  "  a  passionate  desire  to  give  every  chance  of 
well-being  "  to  poor  little  Marjorie.  You  are  a  par- 
ent yourself  and  you  are  most  careful  about  your  chil- 
dren ;  but  would  you,  could  you,  have  done  more  than 
Mrs.  Purvis  did?  And  how  am  I  to  represent,  for 
the  encouragement  of  other  good  parents,  the  virtues 
of  Mrs.  Purvis  if  I  am  not  allowed  to  contrast  her 
admirable  system  of  education  with  the  loose,  ill-reg- 
ulated, and,  I  may  frankly  add,  thoroughly  immoral 
methods  of  J.  J.  Meldon?  This  is  what  my  corre- 
spondent and,  I  fear,  others  like  him  do  not  see. 
This  is  what  the  lady  whose  pruelty  reduced  me  to  a 
sick  bed  and  almost  to  the  services  of  a  professional 
nurse  does  not  see.  Her  grievance  was  not,  I  think, 
J.  J.  Meldon's  stupid  remarks  about  the  Parents' 
Union,  but  other  things  which  he  said.  Will  you  try 
and  explain,  when  you  hear  me  threatened  and  at- 
tacked, that  this  red-haired  curate  is  the  villain,  not 
the  hero,  of  the  piece,  and  that  I  must  not  be  taken 
as  approving  the  indefensible  things  he  says  and 
does?  I  shall  be  deeply  grateful  to  you,  dear  A.,  if, 
in  your  own  inimitable  and  tactful  way,  you  will  do 
me  this  service. 

I  am  yours  very  sincerely, 

G.   A.   B. 
March  1911. 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 


2065723 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 


CHAPTER  I 

rr*VrIERE  are  still  to  be  found  in  Ireland  several 
A  towns  of  great  importance,  in  the  opinion  of 
their  inhabitants,  which  are  twenty  miles  or  more 
distant  from  any  railway  station.  These  places  have 
a  curious  attraction  for  high  government  officials. 
The  less  accessible  they  are  the  more  eager  Lords 
Lieutenant  and  Chief  Secretaries  are  to  visit  them. 
Now  that  motor-cars  are  plentiful  and  fairly  reliable, 
the  difficulty  of  getting  to  remote  towns,  which  used 
to  be  serious,  is  very  greatly  diminished.  Cabinet 
Ministers  and  errant  Members  of  Parliament  who 
have  no  particular  business  in  Ireland  have  taken  of 
late  to  bringing  their  wives  with  them  on  their  pil- 
grimages. This  gives  great  pleasure  to  the  native 
inhabitants,  and  it  should  be  reckoned  for  righteous- 
ness to  the  ladies  themselves  that  they  always  profess 
a  desire  to  benefit  the  towns  they  visit  and  to  elevate 
the  standard  of  comfort  of  the  people.  We  may 
easily  believe  that  these  are  their  real  objects,  for  no 
other  reasons  for  their  visits  are  imaginable.  Bally- 


2  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

moy,  for  instance,  is  one  of  these  fortunate  towns, 
and  no  one  would  go  to  Ballymoy  for  the  sake  of  the 
scenery,  which  is  uninteresting,  or  to  play  golf,  for 
there  are  no  links.  Nor  is  the  society  of  the  place 
such  as  would  be  likely  to  attract  great  ladies  accus- 
tomed to  the  brilliant  political  salons  of  London  or  the 
splendid  festivities  of  Dublin  Castle. 

The  district  has  in  it  one  resident  landlord,  Major 
Kent,  of  Portsmouth  Lodge,  and  he  owns  only  a 
small  property.  He  is  a  bachelor,  devoted  to  the 
breeding  of  polo  ponies  as  a  business,  and  yachting  as 
a  recreation.  The  other  landlord,  Sir  Giles  Buckley, 
who  has  a  much  larger  property,  lives  in  Surrey,  and 
employs  a  firm  of  Dublin  land  agents  to  collect  such 
rents  as  the  government  still  allows  him  to  levy  on 
his  tenants.  In  the  social  life  of  the  place  he  is  of 
no  account.  There  is  a  Resident  Magistrate,  Mr. 
Ford,  spoken  of  generally  as  "  the  R.M.,"  who  is  mar- 
ried and  lives  in  a  house  which  has  been  let  to  gen- 
erations of  his  predecessors ;  and  will  be  let,  no  doubt, 
to  Resident  Magistrates  yet  unborn.  There  is  the 
rector,  Mr.  Cosgrave,  who  suffers,  summer  and  win- 
ter, from  bronchitis.  His  wife  is  a  lady  of  many 
sorrows,  afflicted  with  difficult  children,  impossible 
servants,  and  her  husband's  incurable  infirmities. 
There  is  a  District  Inspector  of  Police,  Mr.  Gregg, 
who,  like  the  Resident  Magistrate,  is  designated  by 
the  initials  of  his  office  and  spoken  of  in  the  locality 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  3 

as  "  the  D.I."  He  has  been  married  for  about  a  year. 
There  is  also  Mr.  Cosgrave's  curate,  the  Rev.  J.  J. 
Meldon.  He  is  regarded  as  vulgar  by  Mrs.  Ford ;  is 
liked  by  Mrs.  Gregg,  who  is  younger  than  Mrs.  Ford ; 
and  enjoys  the  friendship  of  Major  Kent.  By  the 
actual  natives  of  the  town  he  is  treated  with  a  sort 
of  wondering  contempt.  They  appreciate  his  easy 
manners  and  friendly  helpfulness;  but  they  have 
grave  doubts  about  his  sanity  and  speak  of  him  among 
themselves  as  a  "decent  poor  man,  though,  maybe, 
not  quite  right  in  his  head." 

So  far,  the  upper  classes.  Next  come  the  real 
rulers  of  the  town  and  neighbourhood,  Father  Mc- 
Cormack,  who  has  been  parish  priest  of  Ballymoy 
for  twenty  years,  and  Mr.  Doyle.  Mr.  Doyle  is  the 
hotel  keeper,  the  principal  publican,  the  chief  draper 
and  the  largest  provision  dealer  in  Ballymoy.  He  is 
the  unanimously  elected  Chairman  of  all  Leagues  and 
Boards.  He  presides  at  all  the  public  meetings  and 
proposes  all  the  resolutions  of  confidence  in  the  Irish 
Party  which  are  required.  The  other  inhabitants 
take  it  in  turn  to  second  them  and  combine  to  pass 
them  unanimously  with  cheers.  Mr.  Doyle  is,  of 
course,  a  strong  Nationalist,  and  holds  radical  opin- 
ions on  the  land  question.  He  manages,  however,  to 
live  on  excellent  terms  with  Major  Kent,  who  is  a 
good  customer,  and  divides  the  task  of  local  govern- 
ment amicably  with  Father  McCormack.  Though  a 


4  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

devout  Roman  Catholic,  Mr.  Doyle  is  on  terms  •£ 
close  intimacy  with  the  Rev.  Mr.  Meldon. 

The  lot  of  most  Church  of  Ireland  curates  in  Bal- 
lymoy  is  dull,  and  therefore  unhappy;  Mr.  Cosgrave 
has  been  obliged  to  appoint  seven  or  eight  in  rapid 
succession  ever  since  the  failure  of  his  health  necessi- 
tated the  keeping  of  an  assistant.  Meldon  is  the  first 
of  them  who  has  shown  any  signs  of  settling  down. 
He  is  an  exceptional  man  and  has  succeeded  better 
than  any  of  his  predecessors  in  adapting  himself  to 
his  surroundings.  He  lodges,  as  all  the  other  curates 
did,  with  the  postmaster,  and  is  looked  after  by  the 
postmaster's  wife.  She  cooks  chops  for  his  dinner 
on  weekdays,  and  on  Sundays  adds  to  the  chops  a 
rice  pudding.  She  makes  his  bed  every  morning,  and, 
if  nothing  happens  to  prevent  her,  sweeps  the  floor 
of  his  sitting-room  once  a  month.  With  this  accom- 
modation Mr.  Meldon  is  perfectly  content.  He  has 
no  objection  to  dirt,  and  has  a  fortunate  kind  of  ap- 
petite which  enables  him  to  enjoy  an  unvarying  diet 
of  fried  chops.  His  habits  are  perfectly  regular. 
Except  on  the  days  which  he  spends  with  Major  Kent 
he  appears  at  his  lodging  half  an  hour  late  for  every 
meal.  His  books  (he  has  a  large  number  of  books) 
lie  about  on  the  floor.  His  bicycle  is  kept  behind  his 
sitting-room  door.  He  has  a  white  dog  which  sleeps 
on  the  foot  of  his  bed.  It  is  called  Maher-Shalal- 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  5 

Hash-Baz,  conveniently  shortened  to  Baz  in  address- 
ing the  animal  directly.  He  explains  to  the  curious 
that  this  name,  which  is  Hebrew,  means  Rending  and 
Destruction.  It  was  appropriate  to  the  dog  in  the 
days  of  puppyhood  when  it  used  to  eat,  tear,  and 
worry  hearthrugs,  shoes,  gloves,  counterpanes,  table- 
cloths, and  the  lower  parts  of  curtains.  The  post- 
master's wife  has  from  the  very  first  greatly  disliked 
Maher-Shalal-Hash-Baz. 

It  is  Mr.  Meldon's  custom  to  walk  up  and  down 
the  main  street  of  Ballymoy  on  market  days,  and  to 
enter  into  conversation  with  everyone  whom  he  meets. 
He  is  on  terms  of  intimacy  with  all  the  shopkeepers 
and  with  almost  all  the  country  people  who  come  to 
do  business  in  the  town.  He  gives  advice,  freely  and 
earnestly,  to  everybody  on  any  subject,  from  the  treat- 
ment of  chickens  with  the  pip  and  the  proper  way  of 
spraying  potatoes  to  the  making  of  a  marriage  for  a 
son  or  daughter.  He  always  attends  the  Petty  Ses- 
sions Court  as  an  interested  onlooker.  When  the 
law  has  been  duly  administered  and  the  weekly  batch 
of  malefactors  handed  over  to  the  care  of  Mr.  Gregg, 
D.I.,  he  usually  leaves  the  Court  House  in  company 
with  his  friend  Major  Kent. 

It  was  on  one  of  these  occasions,  a  Wednesday 
afternoon  early  in  August,  that  he  noticed  a  look  of 
depression  and  worry  on  the  Major's  fajce.  Being  a 


6  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

man  of  quick  sympathy  and  of  readiness  to  help  any- 
one in  trouble,  he  addressed  his  friend  at  once. 

"  You're  looking,"  he  said,  "  a  bit  blue  to-day,  Ma- 
jor. Anything  wrong?" 

"There  is  not,"  said  the  Major  — " nothing  that 
you  can  cure,  anyhow." 

"  Don't  be  too  sure  of  that.  I  have  a  great  deal 
of  experience  of  life,  besides  all  I've  learned  about 
human  nature  in  books.  If  you'll  take  my  advice, 
Major,  you'll  trot  out  your  affliction,  whatever  it  is, 
and  let  me  see  what  I  can  do.  Has  the  chestnut  filly 
gone  lame  on  you  ?  " 

The  filly  to  which  Meldon  alluded  was  an  animal  of 
great  promise  for  which  Major  Kent  confidently  ex- 
pected a  large  price.  She  was  therefore  a  subject 
of  considerable  anxiety,  and  her  health  was  [carefully 
watched.  An  accident  to  her  would  have  been  a  se- 
rious misfortune. 

"  She  has  not,"  said  the  Major,  "  and  I  wouldn't 
care  a  hang  if  she  had." 

"  Something  must  have  gone  wrong  with  the 
Spindrift  then." 

It  was  a  natural  inference.  Next  in  importance  to 
the  ponies  came  Major  Kent's  yacht,  a  ten-ton  cutter 
which  lay  at  anchor  in  the  bay  below  Portsmouth 
Lodge. 

"  No,"  said  the  Major,  "  the  Spindrift's  all  right." 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  7 

"Then  unless  that  housekeeper  of  yours  has  cut 
up  rough  suddenly  or  got  some  kind  of  fit  I  don't 
know  what's  the  matter  with  you.  If  it  isn't  the  filly 
and  it  isn't  the  boat,  what  is  it  ?  " 

"Mrs.  O'Halloran's  all  right  so  far.  What  she 
may  do  in  the  way  of  a  fit  later  on,  of  course  I  can't 
say.  Up  to  the  present  I  haven't  told  her." 

"  Major,"  said  Meldon  solemnly,  "  you're  not  go- 
ing to  be  married,  are  you  ?  " 

"  No,  I'm  not.  I  —  I  —  could  find  it  in  my  heart, 
J.  J.,  to  wish  I  was." 

Everyone  who  was  intimate  with  the  Rev.  Joseph 
John  Meldon  addressed  him  by  his  first  two  initials. 
Those  who  were  not  intimate  with  him  spoke  of  him 
behind  his  back  as  the  Rev.  J.  J. 

"  You'd  better  come  home  with  me  and  have  a  bit 
of  lunch,"  said  the  Major,  "  and  I'll  tell  you  the  fix 
I'm  in.  I  don't  believe  you  can  help  me  —  nobody 
can  —  but  it  will  be  some  relief  to  talk  it  over." 

" '  A  friend,' "  said  Meldon,  " '  should  bear  a 
friend's  infirmities.'  That's  in  Shakespeare,  but  you're 
so  miserably  illiterate  that  you  probably  don't  recog- 
nise the  quotation.  I've  often  deplored  the  want  of 
some  cultured  and  intellectual  society  in  Ballymoy. 
As  a  University  graduate  I  can't  help  feeling  myself 
a  bit  isolated." 

"  You  may  get  more  of  that  sort  of  thing  than  you 


8  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

want  very  soon.  I  don't  say  you  will,  for  I'm  not 
sure  yet;  but  you  may." 

"  Anybody  wanting  you  to  take  the  chair  at  a  lec- 
ture on  Irish  antiquities?" 

"  No.  Don't  be  an  ass,  J.  J.  Who'd  lecture  on 
antiquities  in  Ballymoy?" 

They  reached  the  hotel  and  passed  into  the  yard 
where  the  Major  stabled  his  cob  while  he  sat  on  the 
Bench  in  the  Petty  Sessions  Court.  The  yard  man, 
who  counted  confidently  on  a  liberal  tip,  wheeled  the 
dogcart  from  the  coachhouse  and  harnessed  the  cob. 
Major  Kent  and  Meldon,  seated  side  by  side,  started 
on  their  five-mile  drive  to  Portsmouth  Lodge.  For 
awhile  nothing  more  was  said  on  the  subject  of  the 
mysterious  trouble.  Meldon  discussed  a  case  which 
had  been  tried  in  Court  that  day.  A  woman  had 
summoned  her  uncle  for  breaking  down  the  stone 
wall  which  divided  her  farm  from  his.  She  believed 
that  he  did  so  in  order  to  encourage  his  heifer  to 
trespass  on  her  meadow.  The  uncle  had  replied  with 
a  cross-summons  against  his  niece  for  threatening  lan- 
guage addressed  to  the  heifer  and  followed  by  an 
assault  with  stones  and  a  stick.  The  case  presented 
points  of  interest,  but  Major  Kent  was  inattentive 
and  made  short  replies  to  the  curate's  remarks.  At 
last  he  interrupted  an  able  estimate  of  the  amount  of 
perjury  committed  by  the  witnesses. 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  9 

"J.  J.,"  he  said,  "you  know  all  about  girls,  don't 
you?" 

"  I  do,  of  course,"  said  Meldon,  cheerfully  drop- 
ping the  subject  of  the  injured  heifer.  "  I've  been 
engaged  to  be  married  for  more  than  two  years,  and 
for  some  time  before  that  I  was  frequently  in  the 
society  of  Gladys  Muriel.  There's  not  a  turn  or  a 
twist  in  any  ordinary  girl  that  I  don't  thoroughly  un- 
derstand. My  own  little  girl  is  quite  typical,  only, 
of  course,  better  looking  than  most.  In  fact  I 
shouldn't  be  going  too  far  if  I  described  her  as  ex- 
ceptionally pretty.  Her  hair  is  a  sort  of  yellowish 
colour,  not  exactly  gold,  but " 

"  I  don't  want  to  know  about  her  hair.  You've 
told  me  all  there  is  to  tell  about  that  little  girl  of 
yours  a  dozen  times  or  more.  You've  shown  me  her 
photograph  till  I'm  tired  looking  at  it." 

"All  right.  I'll  say  no  more  about  her.  But 
kindly  recollect,  Major,  that  it  was  you  who  turned 
the  conversation  on  to  the  subject  of  girls.  I  was 
talking  about  perjury  until  you  interrupted  me." 

"  I  had  a  letter  from  my  sister  this  morning,"  said 
the  Major. 

"  I  didn't  know  you  had  a  sister.  Is  she  older  or 
younger  than  you?  I  have  a  reason  for  asking  that 
question." 

"  She's  older." 


io  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

"  Ah !  Well,  now,  putting  you  down  as  fifty  years 
of  age,  your  sister  is  very  probably  fifty-five.  I  don't 
want  to  be  offensive  in  any  way,  and  I  am  sure  that 
Miss  Kent  is  a  delightful  person,  but  you  can  hardly 
call  her  a  girl,  can  you?  When  I  said  I  understood 
girls  thoroughly  I  didn't  mean  you  to  think  that  my 
knowledge  extended  to  women  of  fifty-five.  As  a 
matter  of  fact,  having  aunts  of  my  own,  I  do  know 
something  about  middle-aged  ladies;  but  I  don't  set 
up  to  be  an  expert.  I  mention  this  because  I 
shouldn't  like  you  to  rely  too  confidently  on  any 
advice  I  may  give  you  in  the  case  of  your  sis- 
ter." 

"  I  don't  know  what  you're  talking  about,  J.  J. 
I  don't  want  any  advice  about  my  sister.  If  you 
knew  her,"  the  Major  grinned  feebly,  "  you  would 
hesitate  before  offering  advice  about  her." 

"  No,  I  shouldn't,  not  a  bit,  if  I  thought  she 
needed  it." 

"Well,  you  might  not.  I  must  say  for  you  there 
are  few  things  you  do  hesitate  about.  Any  way,  my 
sister  isn't  Miss  Kent.  She  married  an  Englishman 
called  Purvis  more  than  twenty  years  ago." 

"  Does  she  want  a  divorce  ?  or  a  judicial  separa- 
tion? I'm  more  or  less  up  in  the  law  on  that  sub- 
ject. As  a  parson  I  have  to  be,  you  know." 

"  No,  she  doesn't.    In  fact  the  very  reverse  is  the 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  11 

case.  She  seems  to  me  to  want  to  go  on  a  sort  of 
second  honeymoon." 

"  Well,  let  her.  I  don't  see  any  harm  in  that.  In 
fact  I  regard  it  as  a  very  fine  exhibition  of  proper 
feeling  in  a  wife.  That  sort  of  thing  is  rare  after  a 
quarter  of  a  century  of  married  life.  But  perhaps 
Purvis  wants  to  get  off  the  trip.  Is  that  it?  If  so, 
my  advice  to  you  is  not  to  mix  yourself  up  in  the 
matter.  Let  them  fight  it  out  together.  There's 
nothing  so  foolish  as  meddling  in  these  domestic 
broils." 

"  I  wish  to  goodness,  J.  J.,  you'd  stop  talking  for 
one  instant  and  let  me  tell  you  the  fix  I'm  in. 
There's  no  domestic  broil  of  any  sort.  Purvis  is  just 
as  keen  as  Margaret  is  on  seeing  the  continent  of 
Europe.  That's  where  the  trouble  comes  in.  But 
here  we  are  at  Portsmouth  Lodge.  You'd  better 
read  the  letter  for  yourself.  That  will  be  more  sat- 
isfactory than  talking  at  cross-purposes  in  the  trap 
and  my  not  being  able  to  explain  myself  on  account 
of  the  way  you  keep  interrupting  me." 


CHAPTER  II 

PORTSMOUTH  LODGE  is  utterly  unlike  any 
other  house  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Ballymoy. 
It  would  probably  win  first  prize  in  all  Connacht  for 
the  best  kept  homestead  if  such  rewards  were  offered 
by  social  reformers  for  competition  among  landlords 
and  professional  men.  Nowhere  out  of  England  it- 
self would  it  be  possible  to  find  gravel  more  carefully 
raked  than  Major  Kent's;  ivy  better  clipped;  fences 
with  more  rigid  wires;  gates  and  doors  which  glisten 
with  brighter  paint.  The  interior  of  the  house  is 
quite  as  exquisite  as  its  surroundings.  The  linoleum 
which  covers  the  hall  is  always  slippery  and  on  cer- 
tain days  in  the  week  smells  strongly  of  beeswax  and 
turpentine.  No  chair  is  allowed  to  remain  long  out 
of  its  appointed  place  in  any  room.  The  Times  and 
the  local  paper,  which  supply  the  Major  with  read- 
ing matter,  are  laid  together  folded  into  correct  paral- 
lelograms on  a  polished  table  in  the  study.  Numer- 
ous receptacles  for  tobacco  ashes  are  to  be  found  in 
every  room.  Fire  grates,  even  in  winter  when  the 
turf  is  blazing  in  them,  are  sacred  from  cigar  ends. 
The  havoc  occasioned  by  a  visit  from  Meldon,  a  la- 
mentably untidy  person,  is  set  right  with  sweeping 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  13 

brushes  and  dusters  immediately  after  his  depar- 
ture. 

Major  Kent  inherits  from  his  grandfather,  the  first 
of  the  family  who  settled  in  Ireland,  an  English  fond- 
ness for  neatness.  It  took  him  years  to  educate  his 
housekeeper,  Mrs.  O'Halloran,  into  a  proper  respect 
for  his  ideas  of  household  management.  Being  a 
woman  of  strong  common  sense  she  had  a  great  con- 
tempt for  her  master's  fads;  but  she  yielded  to  him 
and  was  compensated  for  the  discomfort  of  the  un- 
natural kind  of  life  she  was  obliged  to  live  by  the 
pleasure  she  found  in  making  generations  of  subordi- 
nate hand-maidens  acutely  miserable.  Fresh  from 
their  pleasantly  untidy  homes,  they  could  not  under- 
stand what  Mrs.  O'Halloran  desired  of  them,  and 
suffered,  not  always  patiently,  in  the  effort  to  learn 
the  difference  between  a  thing  which  is  clean  and  a 
thing  which  has  been  given  a  "  rub  over." 

Meldon  walked  into  the  Major's  study,  kicking  two 
mats  crooked  on  his  way.  He  disarranged,  before 
sitting  down  in  it,  a  deep  armchair.  He  stretched 
out  his  legs  and  put  the  heels  of  his  boots  on  the  brass 
bar  of  the  fender,  a  grave  offence  which  would  hardly 
have  been  passed  over  without  a  hint  of  rebuke  if  it 
had  been  committed  by  anyone  except  Meldon. 

"  Now,"  he  said,  "  bring  out  that  letter,  Major,  and 
let  me  get  at  this  mysterious  trouble  of  yours." 


14  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

The  letter,  a  long  one,  written  closely  over  four 
sides  of  a  sheet  of  notepaper,  was  handed  to  him. 

"  It's  written,"  said  the  Major,  "  from  Melbourne, 
but  you'll  see  that  my  sister  expects  to  be  in  England 
by  the  time  I  get  it." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Meldon.  "  Your  sister,  I  sup- 
pose, lives  in  Australia  ?  " 

"  She  does.  She  went  out  with  her  husband  and 
has  been  living  on  a  sheep  farm  for  the  last  twenty- 
two  years,  in  fact  ever  since  she  was  married.  This 
is  her  first  trip  home." 

Meldon  read  the  letter  carefully,  spread  it  out  on 
his  knee,  and  proceeded  to  give  the  Major  an  ab- 
stract of  its  contents. 

"Your  sister,"  he  said,  "is  coming  home.  She 
proposes  to  spend  a  month  or  perhaps  more  in  visit- 
ing the  capitals  of  the  principal  European  states  in 
the  company  of  her  husband.  That's  all  clear  so  far, 
I  hope." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  Major,  "  that's  clear  enough.  I'm 
not  complaining  of  any  difficulty  in  understanding 
the  letter.  Margaret  was  always  able  to  make  her 
meaning  quite  plain  —  too  plain  sometimes." 

"  She  brings  with  her  a  daughter,  of  whom  she 
writes  as  '  Marjorie,'  and  occasionally  '  dear  Mar- 
jorie.'  She  intends  to  send  this  Marjorie  to  stay  with 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  15 

you  here  in  Portsmouth  Lodge,  while  she  enjoys  her- 
self in  Paris,  Vienna  and  Rome.  That,  in  a  few 
words,  is  the  news  which  her  letter  conveys.  Now 
what  is  your  grievance  ?  " 

"  My  grievance !  My  dear  J.  J.,  what  am  I  to  do 
with  a  girl?  How  can  I  keep  her  here?  I'm  not 
accustomed  to  girls.  I  am  constitutionally  unfitted  to 
deal  with  them." 

"  In  my  opinion,  Major,  you're  an  uncommonly 
lucky  man.  Here  you  have  pressed  on  you  what 
many  men  spend  half  their  lives  trying  to  get,  the 
companionship  of  a  really  charming,  quite  natural 
and  unaffected  young  lady.  Instead  of  dancing  with 
joy  as  any  ordinary  man  would,  you  go  about  with  a 
face  as  long  as  if  the  chestnut  filly  had  thrown  out  a 
splint." 

"  That's  all  very  fine  for  you.  You're  accustomed 
to  charming  young  ladies.  I'm  not.  Besides,  how 
do  you  know  that  she  is  a  young  lady  ?  For  all  Mar- 
garet says  in  the  letter  she  may  be  a  baby  in  arms,  or 
a  long-legged  shy  creature  of  fifteen.  For  the  matter 
of  that,  what  ground  have  you  for  saying  that  she's 
charming,  natural  and  unaffected?" 

"  I'll  take  your  points  one  by  one,  Major.  You 
ask  how  I  know  she's  a  grown-up  young  lady.  I 
don't  actually  know  her  age,  but  you  said  that  your 


16  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

sister  had  been  twenty-two  years  married,  from  which 
I  infer  that  her  eldest  daughter  must  be  twenty  or 
twenty-one." 

"How  do  you  know  that  Marjorie  is  the  eldest 
daughter?" 

"  She  must  be.  There  may  be  an  elder  son,  though 
that's  not  likely.  If  there  had  been,  your  sister  would 
have  brought  him  home  with  her  instead  of  the  girl. 
But  in  any  case,  even  if  there  is  a  son,  Marjorie  must 
be  at  least  nineteen,  and  a  girl  of  that  age  is  always 
considered  to  be  grown  up.  I  say  with  confidence," 
he  went  on  in  an  explanatory  tone,  "that  she's  the 
eldest  daughter  because  she's  obviously  called  after 
her  mother.  If  there  had  been  an  older  one  she'd 
have  been  Marjorie,  which  is  an  abbreviation  of  Mar- 
garet, and  this  one  would  have  been  Susan  or  Milli- 
cent  or  something,  else.  That  disposes  of  your  first 
point.  Next,  as  to  her  being  natural  and  unaffected. 
She  has  been  brought  up,  according  to  your  account, 
on  a  sheep  farm.  How  could  a  growing  child  have 
a  more  unaffected  companion  than  a  sheep?  Your 
niece  has  probably  played  with  dear  little  woolly 
lambs  ever  since  she  was  old  enough  to  play  with 
anything.  She  can't  be  anything  else  but  natural. 
You  may  take  my  word  for  it  that  she'll  turn  out 
exactly  like  Lucy  in  Wordsworth's  poem,  who 
*  dwelt  among  untrodden  ways,  beside  the  streams 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  17  . 

of  Dove.'  Ballymoy  will  be  a  metropolis  to  her 
and  a  travelling  circus  a  wild  joy.  As  for  her 
being  charming,  that  follows  from  her  being  perfectly 
natural.  Everything  natural  is  charming.  Besides, 
she  probably  takes  after  her  mother,  and  your  sister 
must  have  had  a  'certain  amount  of  charm  or  else 
Purvis  wouldn't  have  married  her." 

"  She  wasn't  in  the  least  charming,"  said  the  Ma- 
jor. "  She  was  what  I  should  call  dictatorial." 

"  You  may  not  have  appreciated  her  charm,  but  it 
was  there  all  the  same.  Otherwise,  as  I  said,  Pur- 
vis wouldn't  have  married  her.  You  must  give  Purvis 
credit  for  some  sense,  Major.  A  man  like  that,  who 
has  shown  himself  capable  of  making  money  out  of 
sheep  farming,  which  is  a  difficult  business,  money 
enough  to  go  travelling  all  over  the  continent  of 
Europe,  can't  possibly  have  been  such  a  fool  as  to 
marry  a  woman  who  didn't  attract  him." 

"  Well,  supposing  you're  right,  and  you  may  be 
for  all  I  can  tell  —  supposing  she  is  all  you  say,  that 
only  makes  things  much  worse.  What  on  earth 
am  I  to  do  with  a  charming  young  lady  of  twenty- 
one  in  a  place  like  this?  How  am  I  to  entertain 
her?" 

"  Don't  let  that  get  between  you  and  your  sleep. 
I'll  entertain  her  for  you.  I'll  be  getting  my  holidays 
almost  at  once,  and  I'll  not  go  away  except  for  a  week 


i8  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

just  to  see  my  own  little  girl.  I'll  stay  here  in  Bally- 
moy  and  entertain  your  niece." 

"  No,  you  won't,"  said  the  Major  firmly.  "  I 
couldn't,  I  simply  daren't  face  Margaret  if  she  heard 
that  I'd  allowed  the  girl  to  spend  the  summer  flirting 
with  the  curate." 

"  She  might  do  a  great  deal  worse,"  said  Meldon. 
"  But,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  I  don't  mean  to  flirt  with 
her.  You  forget  that  I'm  engaged  to  be  married. 
I  wouldn't  flirt  with  anyone.  What  I  propose  to  do 
is  to  take  her  out  for  rides  and  get  up  picnic  teas 
and  boating  parties  and  play  lawn  tennis  with  her. 
Don't  you  fret  about  her,  Major.  She'll  enjoy  her 
time  all  right." 

"  I  haven't  a  room  in  my  house  fit  to  put  a  girl 
into.  The  place  is  furnished  for  men,  not  girls.  I 
don't  even  know  what  a  girl  would  want  in  a  bed- 
room.*' 

"  A  girl  doesn't  want  anything  particular.  Give 
her  any  ordinary  furniture  and  she'll  manage  along. 
I  know  girls  well." 

"  I  thought,"  said  the  Major,  "  that  they  might  re- 
quire long  looking-glasses,  and  patent  wire  frames 
for  fitting  dresses  on  to,  and  special  lamps  for  heat- 
ing tongs  at.  I  know  I've  seen  those  things  adver- 
tised." 

"She'll  bring  everything  of  that  sort  along  with 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  19 

her.  She  won't  expect  to  have  them  provided  for  her, 
any  more  than  you'd  expect  to  find  a  razor  strop  and 
a  trouser  stretcher  laid  out  for  you  in  the  bedroom  of 
a  strange  house  in  which  you  happened  to  be  stay- 
ing." 

"Then  there's  Mrs.  O'Halloran.  I  don't  know 
what  she'll  say.  I  am  sure  she'll  object  strongly. 
Perhaps  she'll  leave,  and  then  where  would  I  be  ?  " 

"  If  you're  afraid  of  Mrs.  O'Halloran,  I'll  tackle 
her  for  you.  Ring  the  bell  and  I'll  do  it  at  once.  Or 
wait,  is  there  any  point  you'd  like  to  have  cleared  up 
before  Mrs.  O'Halloran  comes  in  ?  " 

"Margaret  says  —  where's  the  letter?  —  oh,  yes, 
there  it  is  on  the  floor  beside  you.  She  says,  '  Dear 
Marjorie  won't  be  any  trouble  to  you.  If  you  give 
her  a  book  and  a  quiet  corner  she'll  be  quite  happy.' 
Now  I  have  no  books  that  any  girl  could  read." 

"  You  have  not,"  said  Meldon.  "  So  far  as  I 
know  you  possess  five  volumes  of  Spurgeon's  Ser- 
mons, two  books  on  horses,  three  on  yacht  building 
and  an  old  encyclopaedia.  I  quite  agree  with  you 
that  no  girl  could  read  your  books.  But  I'll  bring 
you  out  a  couple  of  dozen  volumes  —  novels,  you 
know,  and  poetry.  Gladys  Muriel  reads  Tennyson 
and  any  amount  of  novels.  They're  quite  the  right 
thing  for  girls." 

"  I    don't    know,"    said    the    Major    doubtfully. 


20  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

"  Your  books  might  not  be  the  sort  that  Margaret 
would  like  her  daughter  to  read." 

"  If  you  think  that  I'm  the  sort  of  man  who'd  give 
improper  books  to  a  girl  you're  utterly  mistaken.  As 
a  matter  of  fact  I  don't  read  books  that  have  anything 
objectionable  in  them  myself,  except  the  ancient 
Fathers  of  the  Church.  But  if  you  like,  just  to  make 
your  mind  quite  easy,  I'll  write  to  my  little  girl  and 
get  her  to  draw  up  a  list  of  really  suitable  books,  her 
own  favourite  reading.  That  ought  to  satisfy  you. 
Now  ring  for  Mrs.  O'Halloran." 

The  housekeeper  appeared.  At  first  she  seemed  to 
think  that  an  untimely  demand  for  luncheon  was  to 
be  made  on  her. 

"  It  was  only  this  morning,"  she  said,  "  before  you 
made  out  after  your  breakfast,  that  you  told  me  lunch- 
eon was  for  half -past  one.  The  chicken  isn't  in  the 
pot  above  ten  minutes,  and  the  potatoes  isn't  near 
boiled,  nor  won't  be  for  another  half  hour." 

"  That's  all  right,  Mrs.  O'Halloran,"  said  Meldon. 
"  It  isn't  the  chicken  the  Major  wants.  He  quite 
agrees  with  you  that  when  a  meal's  ordered  for  one 
particular  hour,  that's  the  hour  at  which  it  ought  to 
be.  What  he  wishes  me  to  speak  to  you  about  now 
is  something  quite  different." 

"  If  it's  Mary  Garry  and  the  way  she  has  of  drop- 
ping her  hairpins  out  of  her  head  in  the  morning  when 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  21 

she  does  be  sweeping  out  the  study  floor,  let  the  Ma- 
jor try  and  cure  her  of  that  himself.  I'm  tired  talk- 
ing to  her.  Many's  the  time  I've  said  to  her :  '  Mary 
Garry,  the  master'll  be  raging  mad ;  he'll  face  me, 
and  he'll  kill  you  so  as  you  won't  know  after  whether 
it's  your  head  or  your  heels  you're  standing  on, 
if  you  drop  them  pins  about  the  floor  and  you  sweep- 
ing it.'  But  1  might  as  well  be  talking  to  the  wind 
or  to  one  of  them  horses  beyond  in  the  field  or  to 
yourself,  Mr.  Meldon,  as  to  that  same  Mary  Garry. 
She's  got  the  notion  of  America  in  her  head  this 
minute,  and  she'll  never  settle  down  to  a  decent  day's 
work  till  she's  off  out  of  this,  if  she  does  then  itself." 

"  It's  not  Mary  Garry  I'm  talking  about  now,"  said 
Meldon,  "but  another  girl  altogether." 

"  And  what  will  the  Major  be  wanting  with  another 
girl?  Isn't  one  enough,  and  wouldn't  I  rather  work 
my  fingers  to  the  bone  cleaning  and  sweeping  and 
cooking  and  mending  after  him,  than  have  the  life 
plagued  out  of  me  with  another  girl?  What  does  he 
want  with  another  girl?  Tell  me  that." 

The  Major  had  got  the  better  of  Mrs.  O'Halloran 
in  so  far  as  he  had  induced  her  to  keep  his  house  as 
no  other  house  in  Ballymoy  was  ever  kept.  But  Mrs. 
O'Halloran,  like  every  other  woman  who  ever  learned 
to  polish,  had  also  learnt  to  tyrannise.  It  was  small 
wonder  that  Major  Kent's  courage  quailed  before  the 


22  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

task  of  announcing  the  visit  of  his  niece.  Fortu- 
nately Meldon  was  made  of  sterner  stuff.  Mrs. 
O'Halloran's  tongue  had  no  terrors  for  him.  He 
actually  enjoyed  arguing  with  her. 

"The  Major  doesn't  want  another  girl  any  more 
than  you  do,  Mrs.  O'Halloran.  The  point  is  that  he 
can't  help  himself.  But  the  girl  that's  coming  isn't 
a  fresh  edition  of  Mary  Garry.  She's  a  young  lady, 
and  we  look  to  you  to  make  her  stay  here  pleasant 
for  her." 

"  The  Lord  save  us  and  help  us !  Is  it  a  young 
lady  you're  bringing  down  on  the  house  ?  " 

"  It  is,"  said  Meldon  firmly,  "  a  young  lady  of  re- 
markable charm  and  personal  beauty.  A  young  lady 
who  will  come  like  a  ray  of  sunshine  into  Portsmouth 
Lodge  and  make  all  your  lives  brighter.  You'll  hear 
her  all  day  long  singing  her  pretty  songs  as  she  goes 
tripping  up  and  down  the  stairs.  She  will  have  a 
pleasant  smile  and  a  kind  word  for  everyone.  Even 
Mary  Garry  will  learn  to  look  up  to  her  as  a  sort  of 
angel  in  the  house.  You  know  that  sort  of  young 
lady,  don't  you,  Mrs.  O'Halloran?" 

"  Tell  me  now,"  said  the  housekeeper,  in  a  hoarse 
whisper,  "  is  it  the  young  lady  that's  to  marry  you  — 
and  the  Lord  help  her  when  she  does  —  that's  coming 
here?  For  if  so  be  that  you've  beguiled  the  poor 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  23 

Major,  who's  as  quiet  and  innocent  as  a  child  in  the 
house,  into  inviting  her " 

"  Well,  it  isn't  her.  You  may  make  your  mind 
easy  about  that." 

"  For  if  it  is,"  went  on  Mrs.  O'Halloran,  "  I  may 
tell  you  this.  There'll  be  no  carrying  on  between  her 
and  you  in  this  house  while  I'm  in  it.  The  Major's  a 
respectable  man  and  always  was,  and  I'm  a  respectable 
woman,  and  Mary  Garry  comes  of  decent  people,  and 
as  for  carrying  on " 

"  Sorra  the  woman  or  the  girl  ever  attempted  to 
carry  on  with  me,"  said  Meldon,  "  except  yourself. 
And  hard  enough  I've  found  it  to  keep  you  at  arm's 
length  more  than  once.  If  I  wasn't  a  man  of  remark- 
able strength  of  character,  you'd  have  married  me 
twice  over  before  now." 

Mrs.  O'Halloran  snorted  with  indignation  and  de- 
light. She  recognised  in  Meldon  a  man  who  could 
get  the  better  of  her  in  a  war  of  words,  and  she  ap- 
preciated him  fully. 

"  But  any  way,"  he  went  on,  "  the  young  lady 
who's  coming  here  won't  want  to  carry  on  with  any- 
one. She's  the  Major's  niece,  and  her  name  is  Miss 
Marjorie  Purvis." 

"And  who's  to  attend  on  the  like  of  her?  For  I 
won't.  Maybe  now  you  think  that  Mary  Garry  can 


24  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

be  running  after  her  all  day,  hooking  up  the  backs  of 
her  dresses  for  her  and  doing  her  hair." 

"We  leave  all  those  details  to  you,"  said  Meldon. 
"  Neither  the  Major  nor  I  know  anything  about  the 
backs  of  dresses,  and  we're  not  barbers.  But  I'll  just 
say  this,  that  unless  Mary  Garry  learns  to  do  her  own 
hair  better  than  she  does  at  present  —  I'm  relying  on 
your  account  of  her,  Mrs.  O'Halloran ;  I  never  noticed 
her  hair  one  way  or  other  —  she'd  better  not  lay  a 
hand  on  anybody  else's.  Just  think  how  you'd  feel 
if  you  found  yourself  tripping  over  two  lots  of  hair- 
pins every  time  you  put  out  your  foot  in  front  of 
you." 

Mrs.  O'Halloran  realised  that  she  was  not  likely 
to  produce  any  impression  on  Meldon.  She  turned 
to  the  Major. 

"  And  will  she  expect  me  to  be  carrying  up  a  cup 
of  tea  to  her  in  the  morning,  and  her  in  her  bed?  " 

"I    don't    know,"    said    the    Major.    "Will    she, 

J.J.?" 

"  She  will,"  said  Meldon.  "  Every  self-respecting 
young  lady  expects  that.  A  cup  of  tea  and  a  slice 
of  bread  and  butter  along  with  it,  served  on  a  small 
tray  with  a  white  cloth  spread  over  it." 

"And  how  long,"  said  Mrs.  O'Halloron  desper- 
ately, "  is  the  like  of  that  work  to  be  going  on  ?  " 

"  Six    weeks    at    least,"    said    Meldon.    "  Perhaps 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  25 

longer.  But  you'll  be  surprised  how  you'll  get  to  like 
it.  What  you  and  the  Major  want,  both  of  you,  is 
some  sweet  and  civilising  influence  in  this  house. 
You  may  not  care  for  the  idea  beforehand,  but  you'll 
enjoy  being  refined  enormously  when  the  time  comes. 
Just  think  how  nice  it  will  be  to  have  flowers  settled 
regularly  in  all  the  vases,  and  pretty  little  bows  of 
silk  ribbon  tied  on  to  the  antimacassars,  and  beautiful 
embroidered  teacloths  made  for  use  at  afternoon  tea, 
and  all  the  hundred  and  one  little  dainty  touches 
added  to  life  which  only  the  hand  of  a  highly  edu- 
cated and  cultivated  young  lady  can  bestow.  I 
shouldn't  wonder  a  bit  if  she  set  to  work  and  made 
chintz  covers  for  all  the  chairs  in  the  house!  You'd 
like  that,  wouldn't  you,  Mrs.  O'Halloran  ?  " 

"  I  would  not  then.  The  covers  that's  on  the  chairs 
this  minute  is  good  enough.  But  what's  the  use  of 
talking?  Whatever  is  to  be  must  be,  surely;  and  the 
thing  that's  before  us  is  what  we  have  to  go  through 
with,  be  the  same  easy  or  hard.  I  suppose  now  you'll 
be  eating  your  lunch  with  the  Major,  Mr.  Meldon?" 
"  I  will." 

"  And  you'll  be  wanting  coffee  or  the  like  after  it?  " 

"  We  will." 

"Well,  if  so  be  there's  nothing  more  to  be  said 
about  the  young  lady,  I'll  be  getting  back  again  to 
the  kitchen  to  see  after  the  [chicken." 


CHAPTER  III 

MELDON  and  Major  Kent  spent  two  hours 
after  luncheon  making  plans  for  the  enter- 
tainment of  Miss  Marjorie  Purvis.  The  Major 
agreed  to  rail  off  a  portion  of  the  paddock,  mow  and 
roll  it.  He  wrote  to  a  Dublin  firm  for  a  complete 
supply  of  all  things  necessary  for  the  playing  of 
lawn  tennis  and  croquet.  Meldon  said  that  every  girl 
delighted  in  playing  either  one  game  or  the  other,  and 
that  both  must  be  provided,  since  it  was  impossible  to 
know  beforehand  which  Miss  Marjorie  might  prefer. 
He  proposed  to  instruct  the  Major  in  the  games.  He 
was,  he  boasted,  very  expert  in  lawn  tennis  and  a 
croquet  player  of  more  than  ordinary  ability.  An- 
other letter  was  written  to  a  newsagent  and  a  cheque 
was  enclosed  sufficient  to  cover  six  weeks'  subscrip- 
tion to  three  lady's  papers.  All  women,  young  and 
old,  married  or  single,  Meldon  said,  enjoyed  lady's 
papers  and  would  only  be  really  happy  if  kept  well 
provided  with  them.  The  manager  of  the  stores  at 
which  the  Major  dealt  was  asked  to  submit  an  esti- 
mate for  a  supply  of  cakes  suitable  for  afternoon  tea, 
to  be  posted  regularly  twice  a  week.  Even  Meldon 
26 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  27 

felt  that  it  would  be  unfair  to  ask  Mrs.  O'Halloran  to 
make  cakes.  The  Major  wanted  at  the  same  time  to 
give  a  general  order  for  every  kind  of  food  commonly 
eaten  by  young  ladies.  Meldon  objected  to  his  doing 
this,  maintaining  that  girls  required  no  special  diet. 
After  some  discussion  a  compromise  was  arrived  at 
and  an  order  given  for  ten  pounds  of  chocolate  creams 
mixed  with  fondants. 

The  Major  resolutely  refused  to  buy  a  side-saddle. 
He  said  that  he  would  not  run  the  risk  of  putting  an 
inexperienced  niece  on  any  of  the  horses  in  his  sta- 
bles. Meldon,  after  arguing  at  some  length  that 
high-spirited  girls  enjoy  running  risks,  discovered 
suddenly  that  the  Major's  anxiety  was  for  his  own 
horses  and  not  for  Miss  Marjorie's  neck.  Realising 
that  this  was  a  reasonable  fear,  he  did  not  press  for 
the  purchase  of  the  side-saddle.  It  was  agreed  that 
a  bicycle  should  be  obtained  instead,  and  Meldon 
promised  to  speak  to  Doyle  about  it  at  once.  Doyle, 
hotel  keeper,  grocer,  draper  and  emigration  agent,  also 
dealt,  when  opportunity  offered,  in  agricultural  ma- 
chinery, patent  fertilisers,  watches,  sewing  machines 
and  bicycles. 

A  fashionable  stationer  was  written  to  for  two 
dozen  "  At  Home  "  cards  of  the  latest  design.  There 
were  only  four  people  in  Ballymoy,  including  Meldon 
himself,  to  whom  these  could  possibly  be  sent;  so  it 


28  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

was  calculated  that  the  two  dozen  would  suffice  as 
summonses  to  six  parties.  The  first,  as  Meldon 
planned  them,  would  be  a  simple  afternoon  tea  to  be 
held  at  Portsmouth  Lodge  on  the  day  after  the  niece's 
arrival.  The  next  was  to  take  the  form  of  a  tea 
picnic  at  some  place  not  more  than  five  miles  distant 
to  which  the  guests  would  convey  themselves  on  bi- 
cycles. This,  Meldon  said,  was  a  particularly  fash- 
ionable and  delightful  form  of  entertainment,  of 
which  all  young  girls  were  very  fond.  Major  Kent 
got  out  a  notebook  and  began  to  make  a  list  of 
his  engagements.  The  tea  picnic  was  to  be  followed 
by  another  party  at  Portsmouth  Lodge,  devoted  either 
to  lawn  tennis  or  croquet ;  the  game  indulged  in  to  be 
decided  when  it  was  known  which  of  the  two  the 
niece  preferred. 

"That's  three,"  said  Meldon.  "We  want  three 
more." 

"  Must  we  have  three  more  ?  " 

"We  must.  We  can't  have  less  than  one  every 
week.  In  fact  one  every  week  isn't  really  enough  for 
a  high-spirited,  energetic  young  girl.  But  I  think 
we  may  count  on  the  other  people  giving  a  few  par- 
ties in  return.  Each  of  them  is  bound  to  ask  us  twice 
at  least  if  we  ask  them  six  times.  They  can't  well 
do  less.  That  will  make  six  more  parties,  two  at  the 
rectory,  two  at  the  Fords',  and  two  with  the  D.I.  I 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  29 

tell  you  what  it  is,  Major,  we'll  make  Ballymoy 
hum !  " 

"We  will,"  said  the  Major  without  enthusiasm. 

A  picnic  on  one  of  the  islands  in  the  bay  was  Mel- 
don's  next  suggestion,  the  guests  to  be  taken  out  on 
the  yacht.  The  Major  objected  to  this  because  Mrs. 
Ford  and  Mrs.  Cosgrave  were  invariably  sick  when 
they  went  on  the  sea.  Meldon  pointed  out  that  as 
the  object  of  the  party  was  to  give  pleasure  to  Miss 
Marjorie  Purvis,  the  sufferings  of  other  people  would 
not  matter. 

"  In  fact,"  he  said,  "  if  Mrs.  Ford  and  Mrs.  Cos- 
grave  are  sick  it  will  rather  increase  the  pleasure  of 
the  rest  of  the  party.  I  don't  know  if  you've  noticed 
it,  Major,  but  nothing  gives  most  people  such  a  feel- 
ing of  solid  satisfaction  as  seeing  somebody  else  vio- 
lently ill  at  sea.  I  expect  your  niece  will  enjoy  her- 
self all  the  more  when  she  notices  that  Mrs.  Ford  is 
turning  green  about  the  gills." 

"  She  might  get  sick  herself." 

"  Not  she.  Is  it  likely  that  a  girl  who  has  voyaged 
all  the  way  from  Australia  would  get  sick  in  our  bay  ? 
Besides,  from  what  I've  heard  of  your  niece,  she's 
not  at  all  the  sort  of  girl  who  gets  sick  on  a  pleasure 
party." 

"  So  far  as  I  know,"  said  the  Major,  "  you've  not 
heard  anything  about  my  niece  except  what  you've 


30  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

said  yourself.  I  wouldn't  advise  you  to  build  too  con- 
fidently on  that." 

"After  the  picnic  on  the  bay,"  said  Meldon,  "we 
could  get  up  a  polo  match.  You  and  I  would  play 
Ford  and  the  D.I.  The  rector  could  umpire,  if  he's 
well  enough." 

"On  my  ponies,  I  suppose?" 

"  Of  course.     Nobody  else  has  any  ponies." 

"  Well,  then  you  may  scratch  that  entertainment 
off  the  list.  Make  what  arrangements  you  like,  J.  J. 
—  and  I  don't  deny  that  you're  doing  well  so  far  — 
but  leave  my  ponies  out.  I  won't  have  them  de- 
stroyed." 

"  Except  a  bicycle  gymkhana  and  a  display  of  fire- 
works, I  don't  know  that  there's  any  form  of  enter- 
tainment left." 

"  What  about  a  dinner  party  ?  " 

"  No.  Girls  hate  dinner  parties.  They  don't  care 
to  sit  for  hours  stuffing  themselves  with  heavy  food. 
But  we  might  have  a  dance.  Doyle  was  telling  me 
the  other  day  about  a  boy  who  plays  the  melodeon 
splendidly.  We'll  clear  out  your  dining-room,  polish 
the  floor  and  have  a  dance.  I'll  get  the  rector  to  al- 
low his  three  eldest  children  to  come.  That's  three. 
You  and  I  make  five " 

"  I  can't  dance." 

"  You  can  if  you  like.    Don't  be  selfish,   Major. 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  31 

You  mustn't  expect  a  charming  niece  to  stay  with  you 
and  cheer  you  up  and  make  life  brighter  in  your  home 
without  putting  yourself  out  a  little  to  entertain  her. 
You'll  dance,  of  course.  It'll  do  you  a  lot  of  good. 
The  Fords  are  two  more.  That's  seven.  They  might 
bring  their  eldest  girl  —  she's  only  six,  but  I  suppose 
she  can  dance  more  or  less.  She'll  make  eight.  The 
D.I.  and  his  wife,  ten.  And  Miss  Marjorie  herself 
eleven.  That's  an  odd  number,  but  it  can't  be  helped. 
There's  no  use  counting  on  the  rector  or  Mrs.  Cos- 
grave.  They  may  come  and  look  on,  but  they  won't 
dance." 

Major  Kent,  with  a  sigh,  wrote  down  the  dance  on 
his  list. 

"  As  a  wind  up,"  said  Meldon,  "  a  sort  of  grand 
finale  of  the  season's  entertainments,  we  might  have 
a  paper  chase.  I  am  sure  that  Miss  Marjorie  would 
enjoy  a  paper  chase.  You  and  she  could  be  hares. 
I  would  lead  the  hounds  in  hot  pursuit.  I  rather 
fancy  myself  cheering  on  Mrs.  Ford  when  she  gets 
entangled  in  a  barbed-wire  fence.  I  don't  think  now 
that  we  can  improve  on  that  list." 

"  I  suppose  that  all  this  is  quite  necessary  ?  " 

"  Absolutely.  I'm  giving  you  the  irreducible  min- 
imum. You  can't  entertain  a  girl  with  less." 

"  And  I  suppose  that  we're  doing  quite  the  right 
things?  Remember,  J.  J.,  I've  no  experience.  I'm 


32  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

relying  entirely  on  you.  You  understand  girls  and 
I  don't.  You're  quite  sure  now  that  she'll  really  en- 
joy these  parties?" 

"  She  will.  It  may  seem  odd  to  you  that  she 
should " 

"  It  does.    In  fact  I  scarcely  believe  that  she  can." 

"All  the  same  she  will.  You  may  take  my  word 
for  it,  Major,  that  if  you  were  to  put  a  blank  sheet 
of  paper  in  front  of  any  ordinary  good-looking  girl 
of  twenty  or  twenty-one,  and  were  to  ask  her  to  write 
down  exactly  the  things  she'd  like  best  to  do,  she'd 
produce  a  list  practically  identical  with  yours.  The 
events  might  be  placed  in  a  different  order,  but  they'd 
all  be  there,  and  there'd  be  nothing  else.  Of  course 
it  is  understood  that  Ballymoy  is  Ballymoy.  If  we 
had  her  somewhere  else,  in  London  or  Dublin,  the 
things  we'd  have  to  do  would  naturally  be  different." 

"  I  suppose  it's  all  right,"  said  the  Major  a  little 
wearily.  "I  wish  to  goodness  Margaret  hadn't  in- 
sisted on  dumping  her  daughter  down  here.  But  she 
always  did  things  of  that  kind.  When  I  was  a  boy 
she  used  to  bully  me  frightfully.  I've  never  known 
her  show  the  slightest  consideration  for  my  feelings. 
Why  couldn't  she  have  taken  her  daughter  round 
Europe?  You'd  think  a  mother  would  like  to  have 
her  daughter  with  her  on  a  trip  of  the  sort." 

"  She  has  good  reasons  for  not  taking  her.    You 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  33 

may  be  sure  of  that.  As  a  matter  of  fact  there  are 
lots  of  things  in  those  European  capitals  which  a 
careful  mother  wouldn't  at  all  like  her  daughter  to 
see.  She  may  intend  to  enjoy  herself  in  ways  which 
wouldn't  be  suitable  to  a  girl  of  twenty-one.  I 
shouldn't  wonder  if  she  and  Purvis  mean  to  run  a  bit 
of  a  rig  now  they've  got  loose  from  the  sheep  farm. 

Monte  Carlo,  perhaps,  or "  Meldon  winked. 

"  You  know  the  kind  of  thing  I  mean." 

The  Major  grinned. 

"  I  wish  Margaret  heard  you,"  he  said.  "  My  dear 
J.  J.,  she's  absolutely  the  last  woman  in  the  world  you 
can  imagine  going  on  any  kind  of  spree.  I've  never 
known  her  do  anything  that  the  strictest  moralist 
could  call  even  fast." 

"That's  just  the  most  dangerous  sort  of  woman 
there  is.  When  those  sober,  proper  ones  break  out 
they  run  into  the  most  frightful  excesses.  You  can't 
altogether  blame  her  and  Purvis.  Just  fancy  living 
for  years  and  years  closely  surrounded  by  sheep, 
seeing  nothing,  day  after  day,  but  sheep,  hearing 
nothing  but  bleats,  eating  nothing  but  mutton.  The 
sheep,  as  you  must  have  observed,  is  the  most  appal- 
lingly respectable  beast  there  is.  It  occupies  a  sort 
of  old-fashioned,  evangelical  position  among  the 
other  animals.  You  can't  imagine  a  sheep  voting  any 
way  but  Conservative.  Nobody  ever  heard  of  any- 


34  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

thing  but  a  staid,  quiet  sheep.  A  bull  goes  mad  oc- 
casionally and  runs  amuck.  So  does  a  dog.  We  all 
know  that  horses  and  pigs  have  queer  tempers,  but  a 
sheep  is  quite  different.  If  you  had  lived  among 
sheep  for  twenty-two  years,  you  wouldn't  judge  your 
sister  and  Purvis  as  hardly  as  you  do.  You'd  be 
more  ready  to  make  allowances.  I  daresay  she  isn't 
going  to  do  anything  really  very  bad;  but  I  respect 
her  for  wanting  to  keep  her  daughter  safe.  I  can 
tell  you  a  girl  of  that  age  has  to  be  considered.  I 
expect  that's  the  reason  your  sister  is  sending  Miss 
Marjorie  to  us.  She  knows  we'll  look  after  her." 

"  She  didn't  actually  mention  you  in  her  letter." 

"  No,  she  didn't.  But  I  expect  she  had  me  in  the 
back  of  her  mind.  She  realised  that  I  was  the  sort 
of  man  who  understood  girls  and  would  see  that  Miss 
Marjorie  came  to  no  harm." 

"As  a  matter  of  fact,  I  don't  suppose  she  ever 
heard  of  you.  She  certainly  never  did  from  me.  I 
don't  often  write  to  her,  and  when  I  do,  I  don't  fill  up 
the  letter  with  descriptions  of  your  character." 

"  I  think,"  said  Meldon,  "  111  be  off  now.  I'll  take 
those  letters  of  yours  into  Ballymoy  and  post  them. 
Let  me  see,  one  to  the  stores,  one  to  the  newsagent  — 
you're  sure  you  put  the  cheque  into  that  one?  It 
won't  do  to  expect  a  man  you  don't  deal  with  regu- 
larly to  send  you  papers  on  credit.  One  about  the 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  35 

tennis  and  croquet  things,  and  one  for  the  '  At  Home ' 
cards.  When  they  come  I'll  give  you  a  hand  at  filling 
them  up.  If  your  niece  is  to  be  here  this  day  week 
we  ought  to  get  them  out  at  once." 

"  We  send  them  out  in  both  our  names,  I  suppose," 
said  the  Major.  " '  The  Rev.  J.  J.  Meldon  and  Ma- 
jor Kent  At  Home  — Paper  Chase  —  R.S.V.P.' 
That's  the  kind  of  thing,  isn't  it?" 

The  Major  frequently  indulged  in  sarcasms  of  this 
sort  in  conversation  with  his  friend.  They  glanced 
quite  harmlessly  off  Meldon's  coat  of  self-esteem. 
He  very  rarely  took  any  notice  of  them. 

"  I'll  see  Doyle  this  evening  about  the  bicycle,"  he 
said.  "  I  suppose  I  may  run  to  ten  pounds  and  get 
a  decent  one.  You  wouldn't  care  to  see  your  niece 
riding  about  the  country  on  a  cheap  machine." 

"Oh,  yes,  spend  what  you  like.  Luckily  I  have  a 
little  money  put  by,  but  if  I  go  bankrupt  over  this 
visit,  it  can't  be  helped." 

"  Don't  be  a  screw,  Major.  You  ought  to  be  very 
thankful  to  get  off  with  a  bicycle.  If  you  happened 
to  live  near  any  decent  shops  you'd  have  to  buy  hats 
and  dresses  and  gloves,  and  perhaps  expensive  furs 
for  every  single  niece  who  came  to  stay  with  you.  I 
knew  an  uncle  once  who  took  his  niece  into  a  shop 
in  London  and  told  her  to  choose  a  hat.  He'd  never 
bought  a  thing  of  the  sort  before  and  he  thought  fif- 


36  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

teen  shillings  would  be  the  outside  figure.  What  do 
you  think  they  stuck  him?  Five  guineas!  And  they 
very  nearly  had  him  run  in  for  another  guinea  for 
half  of  a  stuffed  bird.  The  girl  wanted  it,  but  the 
uncle  said  he  belonged  to  the  Wild  Birds'  Protection 
Society  and  was  solemnly  pledged  not  to  buy  any 
dead  fowl  except  a  fchicken.  As  a  matter  of  fact  he 
joined  the  society  the  next  day  and  has  subscribed 
to  it  ever  since.  He  says  it's  one  that  ought  to  be 
supported  in  the  interests  of  uncles.  Now  you  see 
how  cheap  you  get  off  only  having  to  buy  a  bicycle. 
If  there  was  a  hat  or  a  dress  in  Doyle's  drapery  store 
that  Miss  Marjorie  would  wear  on  a  desert  island  in 
a  downpour  of  rain  you'd  have  to  buy  it  for  her. 
Luckily  for  you  there  isn't." 


CHAPTER  IV 

MELDON  left  Portsmouth  Lodge  at  four  o'clock 
and  walked  back  to  Ballymoy.  It  took  him 
two  hours  to  accomplish  the  five  miles,  though  he  was 
a  rapid  and  energetic  walker.  The  country  people 
were  returning  from  the  market  in  a  straggling  pro- 
Cession,  and  Meldon  found  it  necessary  to  greet  each 
group  and  to  stop  for  a  few  minutes'  conversation 
with  his  more  intimate  friends.  The  people  had  come 
into  the  town  in  the  morning  with  cart-loads  of  turf, 
or  with  potatoes,  fowl,  butter  and  young  pigs  in  the 
panniers  of  their  donkeys.  It  was  interesting  to  learn 
the  prices  at  which  these  had  been  disposed  of.  The 
same  carts  and  donkeys  on  their  homeward  journeys 
were  laden  with  sacks  of  flour,  loaves  of  bread,  lamp- 
oil  in  bottles,  parcels  of  drapery  goods  and  smaller 
parcels  of  groceries.  Meldon  liked  to  find  out,  as  far 
as  possible,  what  was  in  the  parcels,  and  nobody 
seemed  to  resent  his  curiosity.  About  half  a  mile  out- 
side the  town  he  stopped  for  a  long  talk  with  a  man 
on  a  shaggy  grey  horse,  who  had  his  wife  perched  un- 
comfortably behind  him.  He  had  been  selling  a 
salmon,  poached  from  the  upper  reaches  of  the  Bally- 
37 


38  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

moy  river,  and  Meldon   was  particularly  anxious  to 
know  what  he  got  for  it. 

While  he  was  talking  to  this  man,  Maher-Shalal- 
Hash-Baz,  looking  dejected  and  cowed,  slunk  along 
the  road  and  rubbed  himself  against  his  master's  legs. 
Meldon  guessed  at  once,  from  the  animal's  appear- 
ance, that  he  had  been  ill-treated  by  the  postmaster's 
wife.  He  dropped  the  subject  of  the  poached  salmon 
and  set  off  homewards  at  a  brisk  pace,  intending  to 
restore  the  dog's  self-respect  by  scolding  his  landlady. 
It  turned  out  afterwards  that  the  dog  had  stretched 
himself  outside  the  kitchen  door  and  that  the  post- 
master's wife,  having  at  the  time  a  tray  in  her  hands, 
had  tripped  over  him  and  broken  several  valuable 
cups.  It  was  not  necessary,  however,  to  lecture  her 
for  her  carelessness.  The  dog's  spirits  revived  before 
he  got  home.  In  the  main  street  of  the  town  he  met 
another  dog,  a  brown  Irish  terrier,  whom  he  particu- 
larly disliked.  The  feeling  was  evidently  mutual. 
After  a  few  preliminary  growls  the  two  animals 
rushed  together  and  a  fierce  fight  began.  Meldon 
recognised  the  brown  terrier  at  once.  It  belonged  to 
Doyle.  He  sent  a  small  boy,  one  of  several  who  were 
enjoying  the  spectacle  of  the  fight,  to  fetch  the  hotel- 
keeper.  While  waiting  for  his  arrival  Meldon  struck 
at  both  dogs  with  his  walking-stick,  hitting  whichever 
he  could  with  fine  impartiality.  Doyle  came  out  of 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  39 

the  hotel  in  his  shirt-sleeves  and  took  in  the  situation 
at  once.  Both  he  and  Meldon  were,  in  fact,  well  ac- 
customed to  acting  the  part  of  peace-makers.  Each 
of  them  seized  his  own  dog  by  the  tail — a  matter  of 
some  difficulty  in  the  case  of  the  Irish  terrier,  which 
had  been  docked  —  and  dragged  them  apart. 

"  There'll  be  murder  done  one  of  these  days,"  said 
Doyle,  "  and  it'll  be  a  good  thing  for  the  town  if  the 
both  of  them  is  killed  at  once." 

"  Can  you,"  said  Meldon,  holding  fast  by  his  pet's 
tail,  "get  a  bicycle  for  Major  Kent  before  this  day 
week  ?  " 

"  I  can,  of  course  —  but  —  will  you  wait  a  minute, 
Mr.  Meldon,  till  I  lock  up  this  dog  in  the  stable?  I 
can't  hear  myself  speak  with  the  way  he's  yapping  to 
get  away  from  me." 

"  What  does  the  Major  want  with  another  bi- 
cycle ?  "  he  said,  when  he  returned  from  imprisoning 
the  brown  dog.  "  Didn't  he  get  a  new  one  only  last 
April?  And  I  wouldn't  say  he'd  been  on  it  a  dozen 
times  since." 

"  It  isn't  for  himself  he  wants  it.     It's  for  a  lady." 

"  Do  you  tell  me  that  ?  Surely  to  goodness  now  old 
Biddy  O'Halloran  isn't  taking  to  the  bicycle,  and  her 
after  burying  two  husbands  and  putting  six  childer 
out  into  the  world  before  she  went  housekeeping  for 
the  Major?" 


40  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

"  It's  not  for  Mrs.  O'Halloran  he  wants  it." 
"  Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  he's  thinking  of  getting 
a  bicycle  for  that  red-headed  girl  of  old  Thomas  Gar- 
ry's, the  one  he  has  within  in  the  house  along  with 
Biddy  O'Halloran  ?  Not  but  what  it  might  be  handy 
enough  to  have  one  for  the  like  of  her,  the  way  she 
could  run  into  the  town  on  it  and  post  the  letters,  or 
get  half  a  pound  of  tea,  or  whatever  Biddy  O'Hal- 
loran might  come  short  of  on  a  sudden  in  the  house." 
"  It's  not  for  Mary  Garry,"  said  Meldon.  "  I  don't 
mind  telling  you,  Mr.  Doyle,  who  it  is  for,  and  I  will 
tell  you  some  time  again ;  but  I  can't  be  standing  here 
all  the  evening  in  the  middle  of  the  street  holding  a 
white  dog  by  the  tail,  and  shouting  out  the  Major's 
private  affairs  for  half  the  town  to  hear." 
"  That's  true,  as  true  as  if  I  said  it  myself." 
"  It's  a  great  deal  truer.  If  you  said  it  there'd  be 
precious  little  truth  in  it.  I  never  knew  you  tell  the 
truth  —  not  what  the  Major  would  call  the  naked 
truth  —  since  I've  known  you,  but  the  once,  and  that 
was  this  day  last  week,  when  you  said  that  brown 
dog  of  yours  was  an  ugly  blackguard." 

Mr.  Doyle  grinned  his  approval  of  this  remark, 
which  he  regarded  as  a  compliment.  It  was  a  hand- 
some appreciation  of  his  astuteness,  and  was  there- 
fore very  agreeable  to  him.  No  man  but  a  fool  tells 
the  truth  in  business  or  politics,  and  Doyle  had  a 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  41 

reputation  to  sustain.  He  could  not  afford  to  be 
thought  a  fool  either  in  the  conduct  of  public  affairs 
or  in  his  private  capacity. 

"  Would  you  step  inside  the  hotel  with  me,  Mr. 
Meldon,"  he  said,  "and  we  can  settle  about  the  bi- 
cycle the  Major  wants?  I  was  wishing  to  speak  a 
word  to  you  anyway,  and  I  may  as  well  do  it  now  as 
again.  You  can  let  go  that  dog  of  yours.  Now  that 
my  own's  locked  up,  there  isn't  one  in  the  town  but 
what  that  white  beast  of  yours  has  fought  it  and 
beaten  it.  He'll  lie  quiet  till  you  come  out  if  it's  only 
for  the  want  of  something  more  agreeable  to  do." 

Meldon  followed  Doyle  into  the  hotel. 

"  We'll  have  to  go  into  my  private  apartment,  for 
there's  a  commercial  gent  in  the  coffee-room,"  said 
Doyle,  after  opening  the  door  on  the  right-hand  side 
of  the  passage  and  looking  in.  "  He  travels  in  hard- 
ware for  Clements  and  Ball  of  Sheffield.  He  was  in 
the  shop  with  me  this  morning  trying  to  sell  me  some 
sort  of  new  patent  razor.  I  told  him  the  only  use 
we  had  for  razors  in  this  country  —  that  is,  barring 
the  clergy,  of  course,  Mr.  Meldon  —  was  for  cutting 
throats  with.  I  asked  him  was  the  safety  razor  any 
improvement  on  the  old  sort  for  that  sort  of  work. 
'  For  if  it  is,'  said  I,  '  I'll  take  a  gross  of  them.'  You 
never  met  a  man  with  less  idea  of  business  than  that 
fellow.  Instead  of  telling  me  that  his  patent  razor 


42  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

was  the  finest  weapon  out  for  cold-blooded  and  de- 
liberate murder,  and  then  booking  my  order  for  the 
whole  gross  of  them,  the  poor  man  said  that  the  point 
about  his  razors  was  that  they  wouldn't  cut  a  baby." 

Mr.  Doyle's  private  apartment  was  a  small  room 
at  the  back  of  the  hotel  premises.  It  smelt  very 
strongly  of  whisky,  bottled  porter,  and  tobacco.  It 
was  furnished  with  a  round  table  stained  to  imitate 
mahogany,  six  rickety  chairs  with  horse-hair  seats, 
and  a  sofa  deeply  dinged  near  the  upper  end  where 
Mr.  Doyle  usually  sat.  There  was  a  sloped  writing- 
desk  under  the  window,  littered  with  dusty  account- 
books  and  bill-forms.  Over  the  fireplace  hung  a 
cracked  mirror  in  a  tarnished  gilt  frame.  The  other 
walls  were  adorned  with  two  pictures  of  eminent  race- 
horses and  a  handsomely  framed  portrait  of  an 
ecclesiastic,  a  relative  of  Doyle's,  who  had  risen  to 
high  honour  in  the  United  States. 

"What  will  you  take?"  asked  Mr.  Doyle. 

The  meaning  of  the  question  became  apparent  at 
once.  Mr.  Doyle  turned  the  key  in  the  door  of  a  cup- 
board as  he  spoke,  opened  it,  and  displayed  an  array 
of  bottles  and  tumblers,  clean  and  dirty,  on  the 
shelves  within. 

"  Nothing,  thank  you,"  said  Meldon.  "  You  know 
well  enough  that  I  don't  touch  a  drop  except  at  my 
meals." 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  43 

"  Excuse  me,"   said   Doyle. 

He  left  the  cupboard,  walked  over  to  the  window 
and  drew  down  the  blind.  Then  he  winked  at  Mel- 
don. 

"  That  idle  spalpeen  of  a  Paddy  Clancy,"  he  said, 
"  spends  half  the  day  looking  in  at  this  window  and 
talking  round  the  town  after  about  what  goes  on  in 
here." 

The  thought  in  Mr.  Doyle's  mind  was  plain.  Mr. 
Meldon,  as  a  clergyman,  would  naturally  be  unwilling 
to  take  any  form  of  refreshment  under  the  eye  of  the 
garrulous  Paddy  Clancy.  Assured  of  decent  privacy, 
it  was  natural  to  suppose  that  he  would  drink  whisky 
when  it  was  offered  to  him. 

"  I  have  a  bottle  of  good  stuff  here,"  said  Doyle 
persuasively.  "The  like  of  it  is  what  you  wouldn't 
get  at  the  bar  outside ;  no,  nor  at  any  other  bar." 

"  I  won't  touch  it,"  said  Meldon.  "  It  isn't  Paddy 
Clancy  nor  his  talk  that  would  stop  me  if  I  wanted  to 
drink,  but  I  don't.  You've  been  acquainted  with  me 
long  enough  now,  Mr.  Doyle,  to  know  that  I  don't 
go  in  for  promiscuous  drinking." 

"Will  I  send  for  a  bottle  of  lemonade  for  you?" 
said  Doyle  with  fine  scorn. 

"  You  will  not.  Do  you  think  I'd  go  blowing  my- 
self out  with  that  sort  of  fizzy  stuff?  Let's  get  to 
business  now,  Mr.  Doyle,  without  any  more  of  your 


44  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

talk  and  your  foolishness.  The  lady  the  Major  wants 
the  bicycle  for  is  his  own  niece  that's  coming  to  stay 
with  him.  He  wants  a  good  one,  and  he'll  give  ten 
pounds  for  it.  Now  what  sort  of  a  bicycle  can  you 
be  sure  of  having  here  in  the  inside  of  a  week?" 

Mr.  Doyle  sat  down  at  his  writing-table  and  began 
to  take  a  note  of  the  order. 

"  What  sized  frame  will  you  want  ? "  he  asked. 
"Is  the  lady  tall?" 

"  She's  a  well-grown  girl,  but  not  what  you'd  call 
exactly  tall.  I  can't  tell  you  her  height  to  an  inch, 
for  I  never  measured  her.  The  best  thing  will  be  to 
get  a  low  frame,  in  £ase  of  accidents,  and  then  if  she's 
too  big  for  it  the  saddle  can  be  raised." 

After  a  quarter  of  an  hour  of  brisk  discussion,  the 
make,  grade,  and  size  of  the  bicycle  were  settled. 
Doyle,  acting,  so  he  said,  in  a  way  that  would  get  him 
into  trouble  with  the  makers  if  the  transaction  came 
to  their  ears,  agreed  to  sell  the  bicycle  at  consider- 
ably less  than  the  advertised  price,  thereby  foregoing 
his  own  legitimate  profit. 

"  It's  on  account  of  the  respect  I  have  for  the  Ma- 
jor," he  said,  "and  on  account  of  the  liking  I  have 
for  yourself,  Mr.  Meldon,  that  I'm  selling  the  bi- 
cycle at  the  price  I  am.  If  it  was  anyone  else  that 
asked  it  of  me,  I'd " 

"You'd  do  just  what  you're  doing  this  minute," 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  45 

said  Meldon,  "and  make  a  good  profit  on  the  tran- 
saction." 

"  I'll  not  be  making  a  penny !  " 

He  spoke  with  such  conviction  that  Meldon  hesi- 
tated in  his  disbelief. 

"  If  you're  not  making  money  on  the  bicycle,"  he 
said,  after  a  pause,  "  you'll  be  expecting  to  get  some- 
thing out  of  the  Major  some  other  way.  What 
is  it?" 

Mr.  Doyle  rose  slowly  from  his  writing-table, 
crossed  the  room,  and  sat  down  in  the  accustomed 
corner  of  the  sofa. 

"  I  was  telling  you  before,"  he  said,  "  that  there's 
a  matter  I  want  to  speak  to  you  about." 

"Trot  it  out  then;  and  if  the  particular  job  you 
want  the  Major  to  do  isn't  too  obviously  objection- 
able, I'll  do  my  best  to  help  you  to  persuade  him." 

"You  might  have  heard,"  said  Mr.  Doyle,  "that 
the  Lord  Lieutenant  is  to  pay  a  visit  to  the  town  and 
the  Lady  Lieutenant  along  with  him." 

The  Lord  Lieutenant  was  a  well-known  English  no- 
bleman, the  Marquis  of  Chesterton.  His  wife,  a 
young  American  lady  of  large  fortune,  had  devoted 
herself  to  the  task  of  regenerating  Ireland.  After 
a  careful  study  of  the  conditions  of  Irish  life,  she 
arrived  at  the  [conclusion  that  the  work  of  reform 
ought  to  begin  with  the  children.  So  far  she  was 


46  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

entirely  original.  None  of  her  predecessors  had  at- 
tempted to  improve  the  Irish  nurseries.  But  the  tra- 
ditions of  office  were  too  strong  in  the  end  even  for 
the  daring  mind  of  the  American  marchioness.  For 
the  working  out  of  her  reform  she  lapsed  into  com- 
monplace methods.  She  founded  a  society,  non-po- 
litical and  non-sectarian  in  principle,  called  the  "As- 
sociation for  the  Amelioration  of  the  Irish  Child," 
and  solicited  subscriptions  for  its  support.  Whether 
the  money  was  to  be  spent  in  presenting  hygienic  un- 
derclothes to  the  poorer  mothers  for  the  use  of  their 
babes,  or  in  providing  tins  of  patent  foods  at  a  cheap 
rate  to  large  families,  did  not  appear  in  the  rules  of 
the  association. 

Lady  Chesterton's  energies  were  devoted  at  first  to 
the  task  of  enrolling  members.  Not  content  with 
swearing  in  the  fashionable  parents  who  attended  the 
levees  and  drawing-rooms  at  the  Castle,  she  went 
round  the  country  in  a  motor-car,  accompanied  by 
His  Excellency  and  a  private  secretary,  and  sought 
recruits  among  the  fathers  and  mothers  of  very  un- 
likely places.  No  district  was  too  remote  for  Lady 
Chesterton.  She  wished  to  dredge  up  parents  from 
the  streets  of  the  most  backward  country  towns,  and 
Ballymoy  was,  naturally,  one  of  the  places  she  deter- 
mined to  visit.  It  seemed  likely,  since  Ballymoy  was 
twenty  miles  from  a  railway  station,  that  the  chil- 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  47 

dren  there  would  be  badly  in  need  of  amelioration. 

"  Father  McCormack,"  said  Doyle,  "  thinks  we 
ought  to  have  a  public  meeting  and  an  address  of 
welcome  presented.  Lord  Lieutenants  is  common 
enough,  and  nobody'd  put  themselves  about  for  one 
of  them,  nor  yet  for  a  Chief  Secretary ;  but  this  is  the 
first  time  a  Lady  Lieutenant  ever  came  to  these  parts, 
and  it's  my  opinion  and  Father  McCormack's  opin- 
ion that  we  ought  to  make  the  best  we  can  of  the 
occasion." 

"  I'm  surprised  at  you,  Mr.  Doyle,"  said  Meldon. 
"You  that  are  a  Nationalist  and  the  President  of 
every  kind  of  league  there  is,  would  you  be  the  first 
to  welcome  the  representative  of  the  English  King?" 

"You're  not  looking  at  the  matter  in  the  right 
way,"  said  Doyle.  "  It  isn't  the  representative  of 
the  King  that  I'm  proposing  to  welcome  —  for  I 
wouldn't  do  the  like  —  but  an  amiable  lady  that  has 
shown  the  greatest  sympathy  with  the  people  of  this 
country  in  a  practical  way.  Why  wouldn't  I  welcome 
her?" 

"  I  suppose  now,"  said  Meldon,  "  that  what  you're 
going  on  is  the  thing  the  newspapers  call  the  tradi- 
tional courtesy  of  the  Irish  people  towards  the  fair 
sex.  Is  that  it?" 

"  It  is,"  said  Doyle,  looking  Meldon  straight  in 
the  face  without  winking. 


48  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

"And  there  might  be  money  in  it?" 

"  Of  course  there's  money  in  it ! "  said  Doyle. 
"  Didn't  you  hear  about  the  society  she  has  started 
for  ameliorating  the  Irish  children?  You  can't  do 
that  without  money.  I  saw  a  list  of  subscriptions 
the  length  of  your  arm  in  the  Irish  Times  a  week  ago. 
And  what  I  say  is  this:  Why  shouldn't  Ballymoy  get 
its  share  of  what's  going  as  well  as  another  place  ?  " 

"  So  we're  to  have  a  public  meeting,  are  we  ?  " 

"  We  are.  And  an  address  of  welcome,  illumi- 
nated. Now  what  I  want  to  speak  to  you  about  is 
this :  We're  in  a  bit  of  a  difficulty  about  who  is  to 
present  the  address." 

"  I'll  do  it  for  you  if  you  like,"  said  Meldon.  "  I 
never  have  presented  an  address  of  welcome,  but  I'm 
sure  I  could  if  I  tried." 

"  It  wasn't  you  I  had  in  my  mind ;  though  I  needn't 
tell  you,  Mr.  Meldon,  I'd  sooner  see  you  do  it  than 
another.  I've  a  respect  for  you  and  a  liking.  But 
I'm  not  sure  that  it  would  suit  for  you  to  present 
that  address."  Doyle's  voice  sank  to  a  whisper. 
"  Father  McCormack  mightn't  altogether  like  it." 

"Very  well,  then.  Let  Father  McCormack  do  it 
himself.  I  shan't  mind." 

"  He  won't,"  said  Doyle.  "  He  says  that,  the  so- 
ciety being  undenominational,  and  the  Lord  Lieuten- 
ant being  a  strong  Protestant,  it  wouldn't  do  for  a 
priest  to  be  presenting  the  address." 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  49 

"Do  it  yourself,  then." 

"  It  wouldn't  answer  me  at  all.  There's  people  in 
Ireland,  and,  what's  more,  there's  newspapers  in 
Dublin,  that  takes  the  greatest  possible  delight  in 
misconstruing  the  actions  of  public  men  like  myself. 
You'll  hardly  believe  me,  Mr.  Meldon,  but  them  fel- 
lows is  capable  of  saying  that  I  was  putting  in  for  a 
knighthood  if  I  presented  that  address.  But  I'll  tell 
you  what  I  was  thinking.  Maybe  Major  Kent  would 
do  it.  He's  a  magistrate  and  a  public  man,  and  he's 
well  liked  in  the  town." 

"  Ah ! "  said  Meldon,  "  that's  where  the  Major 
comes  in,  is  it?  I  thought  we'd  get  to  him  soon." 

"  I'm  sure  now,"  said  Doyle,  "  that  if  you  was  to 
ask  him  he'd  do  it." 

"  I'm  quite  sure  he  wouldn't,  not  if  I  went  down 
on  my  knees  to  him  and  kissed  his  boot.  The  Ma- 
jor hates  making  a  show  of  himself  in  public.  He's 
not  that  kind  of  man  at  all." 

"  Well,  then,  I  don't  know  what's  to  be  done. 
The  address  is  up  in  Dublin  being  illuminated  at  the 
present  minute,  and  we're  sending  a  couple  of  the 
boys  round  the  town  on  a  house-to-house  collec- 
tion to-night  to  gather  the  money  to  pay  for  it 
It'll  be  a  terrible  pity  to  have  it  all  go  to  waste  on 
us." 

"I'll  tell  you  what  now.  When  did  you  say  they 
were  coming?  " 


50  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

"The  date's  not  fixed  yet,  but  it'll  be  in  about  a 
fortnight." 

"Very  well,"  said  Meldon;  "that'll  suit  perfectly. 
I'll  get  the  Major's  niece  to  present  the  address. 
She'll  be  here  next  week,  and  she's  just  the  sort  of 
young  lady  who'd  enjoy  presenting  an  address,  and, 
what's  more,  would  present  it  uncommonly  well." 

"  She  might  do." 

"  She  will  do.  You  can't  possibly  get  anyone  bet- 
ter. The  Lord  Lieutenant  will  be  delighted,  and  the 
Lady  Lieutenant,  as  you  call  her,  will  ripple  all  over 
with  pleasure.  I'll  arrange  with  the  Major,  but  if 
I  do  you'll  have  to  take  another  ten  shillings  off  the 
price  of  the  bicycle." 

"  111  lose  money  on  it  so." 

"  You  will  not,  but  you'll  make.  You'll  make  more 
than  you  deserve.  But  I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do  so 
as  to  meet  you  halfway:  I'll  get  the  Major  to  give 
five  shillings  towards  the  price  of  the  illuminated  ad- 
dress. That's  as  good  as  putting  it  into  your  pocket, 
for  you'll  have  to  pay  up  whatever  they're  short  in 
the  price.  I  don't  see  how  anything  could  be  fairer 
than  that  to  both  parties.  And  I  can  tell  you  that 
you're  uncommonly  lucky  in  getting  a  hold  of  Miss 
Purvis.  There  won't  be  another  address  in  the  whole 
province  of  Connacht  presented  with  the  same  stately 
grace  and  general  appropriateness  of  gesture  and  ex- 
pression." 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  reputation  of  the  Major's  niece  spread 
through  all  sections  of  society  in  Ballymoy 
during  the  week  which  preceded  her  arrival.  Mr. 
Doyle,  since  Miss  Purvis  was  to  present  the  illumi- 
nated address,  felt  that  he  must  create  a  public  opin- 
ion in  her  favour.  Chatting  casually  to  customers 
at  his  bar,  he  spoke  of  her  as  a  young  lady  whose 
beauty  had  taken  English  society  by  storm,  who  had 
been  presented  to  the  King,  whose  company  was 
eagerly  sought  after  by  the  rich  and  great.  It  came 
by  degrees  to  be -generally  believed  that  the  visit 
of  the  Lord  Lieutenant  and  Lady  Chesterton  to  Bal- 
lymoy was  to  be  made  in  reality  for  the  sake  of  be- 
coming acquainted  with  Miss  Marjorie  Purvis,  and 
that  the  formation  of  a  branch  of  the  Association 
for  the  Amelioration  of  the  Irish  Child  was  a  mere 
excuse.  Mrs.  Ford,  the  wife  of  the  Resident  Mag- 
istrate, Mrs.  Cosgrave  at  the  Rectory,  and  Mrs. 
Gregg,  who  had  only  been  a  year  married  to  the  Dis- 
trict Inspector  of  Police,  received  their  invitation 
cards  and  met  frequently  to  discuss  the  clothes  they 
would  wear  on  the  festive  occasion.  They  gradu- 
ally came  to  think  of  Major  Kent's  niece  as  a  young 
5* 


52  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

lady  of  splendid  and  most  fashionable  attire,  in  whose 
company  even  the  remaining  glories  of  Mrs.  Gregg's 
trousseau  would  be  dimmed. 

Meldon's  society  was  eagerly  sought  after.  He 
alone  appeared  to  be  in  a  position  to  give  detailed  in- 
formation about  Miss  Purvis.  He  always  disclaimed 
any  personal  knowledge  of  her.  He  said  repeatedly 
and  distinctly  that  he  had  never  seen  her,  that  there 
was  no  photograph  of  her  at  hand  and  that  he  could 
do  no  more  than  guess  at  her  appearance.  He  was 
nevertheless  quoted  as  the  authority  for  the  portrait 
which  fancy  drew.  Miss  Marjorie  —  it  was  thus 
that  everyone  spoke  of  her  —  was  believed  to  possess 
a  mass  of  auburn  hair,  large  brown  eyes,  a  lovely 
complexion,  and  a  figure  of  surpassing  excellence. 
Her  favourite  colours,  those  in  which  she  almost  in- 
variably dressed,  were  said  by  Mrs.  Ford,  who  gave 
Meldon  as  her  authority,  to  be  a  warm  shade  of 
heliotrope  and  a  rich  brown.  Her  hats  were  spoken 
of  sometimes  as  "picture";  at  other  times,  more 
vaguely,  as  "  matinee."  Even  the  country  people, 
dwelling  in  remote  and  boggy  regions,  took  an  inter- 
est in  Miss  Marjorie  and  held  a  theory  of  their  own 
about  her.  She  was,  so  they  were  assured  that  Mel- 
don had  said,  a  cousin  of  the  Lord  Lieutenant's  wife. 
Meldon  enjoyed  himself  amazingly  during  the  week. 

Major  Kent,  who  had  a  natural  dislike  to  being 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  53 

questioned,  and  who  felt  besides  that  gossip  was  fix- 
ing a  reputation  on  his  niece  which  she  might  not  be 
able  to  sustain,  shut  himself  up  as  much  as  he  could 
in  Portsmouth  Lodge.  When  caught  one  day  in  the 
main  street  of  Ballymoy  and  asked  for  more  informa- 
tion about  his  wonderful  relative,  he  vehemently  de- 
nied everything  that  anybody  had  said.  His  action 
merely  served  to  stimulate  the  growth  of  what  may 
be  described  as  the  "  Marjorie  myth."  It  was  felt 
that  the  Major,  as  a  modest  man,  could  not  be  ex- 
pected to  boast  publicly  about  the  professional  beauty 
of  the  Kent  family. 

The  bicycle  arrived  four  days  after  it  had  been 
ordered,  which  was  regarded  in  Ballymoy  as  a  re- 
markable proof  of  Doyle's  business  energy.  The 
congratulations  which  poured  in  on  him  were  well 
deserved.  He  had  written  three  letters  and  sent  no 
less  than  four  telegrams  about  the  bicycle.  It  was 
unpacked  from  its  case  under  Meldon's  personal  su- 
pervision and  polished  to  the  highest  possible  degree. 
Then  it  was  placed  on  show  in  the  window  of  Doyle's 
drapery  store,  surmounted  by  a  large  card  which  bore 
in  red  letters  an  extremely  mendacious  notice. 
"  This  bicycle,"  so  the  public  were  informed,  "  was 
specially  manufactured  by  the  British  and  Irish  Cycle 
Company  to  the  order  of  Major  Kent,  Esq.,  J.P.,  of 
Portsmouth  Lodge."  The  saleswoman  of  the  drapery 


54  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

store,  who  had  been  obliged  to  remove  a  number  of 
exquisite  blouses  from  her  window,  resented  the  bi- 
cycle. The  next  morning  she  made  up  for  the  loss 
of  advertisement  which  her  goods  suffered  by  placing 
in  front  of  the  bicycle  a  corset  labelled  "  Special  and 
Elegant  —  The  Marjorie."  Very  fortunately  Meldon 
happened  to  pass  down  the  street  shortly  after  the 
garment  was  exposed  to  view.  He  called  on  Doyle 
at  once  and  insisted  that  the  corset  should  be  re- 
moved. He  said  that  no  self-respecting  uncle,  least 
of  all  Major  Kent,  would  tolerate  the  publication  of 
his  niece's  name  in  connection  with  underclothes. 

The  meeting  of  Miss  Marjorie  at  a  railway  station 
twenty  miles  distant  from  Ballymoy  was  a  serious 
business,  and  arrangements  were  made  in  good  time. 
Jamesy  Deveril,  the  groom,  was  sent  off  early  in  the 
morning  with  a  spring-cart.  He  was  to  feed  his 
horse  in  Donard  and  be  ready  to  set  off  home  with 
the  luggage  as  soon  as  the  train  arrived.  Major 
Kent  and  Meldon  started  at  nine  o'clock  on  the  car. 
The  train  by  which  Miss  Marjorie  travelled  was  due 
in  Donard  at  a  quarter-past  one.  Luncheon  could  be 
eaten  in  the  hotel  and  a  start  made  for  home  at  about 
half-past  two  o'clock,  the  horse  by  that  time  being 
sufficiently  rested  to  travel  his  second  twenty  miles 
at  a  reasonable  speed.  There  was  thus  every  hope 
of  Marjorie's  reaching  Portsmouth  Lodge  in  time  for 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  55 

a  late  afternoon  tea  and  finding  her  luggage  there  to 
meet  her.  Mrs.  O'Halloran  was  charged  to  have  the 
tea  ready.  The  Major  himself  unpacked  and  put  out 
on  plates  the  first  instalment  of  cakes  which  arrived 
from  the  stores.  Two  of  the  ladies'  papers  were  laid 
on  the  drawing-room  table;  the  third  and  largest  the 
Major  put  in  his  niece's  bedroom.  Meldon  objected 
to  this  arrangement,  arguing  that  it  was  a  pity  not  to 
display  the  papers  to  the  best  advantage.  The  Major 
stuck  to  his  own  plan.  He  said  that  the  illustrations 
of  the  advertisements  in  that  particular  paper  were 
not  suitable  for  public  exhibition  and  that  it  would 
be  embarrassing  for  his  niece  to  look  at  them  in 
Meldon's  company.  The  tennis  net  was  erected  in 
the  paddock  and  the  ground  marked  out.  Mrs. 
O'Halloran  was  told  to  see  that  Mary  Garry  adorned 
herself  with  a  cap  and  apron.  Meldon,  acting  on  the 
advice  of  the  young  lady  in  Doyle's  drapery  store, 
had  bought  a  supply  of  these  garments  and  was  par- 
ticularly pleased  at  the  enormously  long  white  stream- 
ers which  depended  from  them. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Gregg,  who  happened  to  be  on  the 
road  in  front  of  their  house  when  the  car  started, 
waved  a  greeting  to  the  Major.  Doyle,  at  the  door 
of  the  hotel,  where  the  car  had  to  stop  to  pick  up 
Meldon,  wished  the  expedition  good  luck.  A  strag- 
gling cheer,  led  by  Paddy  Clancy,  gave  a  final  send- 


56  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

off  as  the  horse  trotted  along  the  main  street  of  Bal- 
lymoy. 

Travelling  quietly,  so  as  not  to  exhaust  the  horse, 
the  Major  and  Meldon  arrived  in  Donard  shortly 
after  twelve  o'clock.  They  went  at  once  to  the  hotel 
and  saw  their  horse  stabled  and  fed.  Then  they  went 
indoors  to  order  luncheon.  The  landlord  offered  them 
a  choice  of  chops  or  chicken.  The  Major  ordered 
both  —  a  wise  precaution,  for  the  chicken  destined 
for  the  meal  was  still  at  large,  pecking  Indian  meal 
in  the  yard.  The  question  of  a  pudding  was  more 
difficult.  A  custard  pudding,  suggested  by  the  land- 
lord, was  not  satisfactory.  The  Major  himself  de- 
tested custard  pudding  and  found  it  difficult  to  be- 
lieve that  his  niece  would  eat  it.  The  landlord  did 
not  seem  hopeful  of  his  cook's  being  able  to  make 
anything  else. 

Driven  to  despair  by  the  Major's  persistent  ob- 
jections to  the  custard  pudding,  he  recollected  at  last 
that  there  was  a  "tin  of  what  they  call  pineapples 
in  the  shop  beyond."  He  supposed  that  the  Major 
could  have  it  if  he  liked;  but,  foreseeing  possible 
disappointment,  he  disclaimed  any  responsibility  for 
its  condition. 

"  I  wouldn't  say  but  it  might  have  gone  bad  on  us. 
I  mind  seeing  it  there  on  the  shelf  along  with  the  jam 
and  the  starch  for  maybe  five  years." 

The  wrangle  about  luncheon  lasted  half  an  hour, 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  57 

and  it  was  one  o'clock  when  the  Major  and  Meldon 
reached  the  railway  station.  Jamesy  Deveril  and 
the  spring-cart  stood  at  the  gate.  A  rope  was  ready 
at  hand  to  bind  the  niece's  luggage  securely  into  its 
place. 

"I  suppose,"  said  the  Major,  '"she  won't  have 
more  luggage  than  the  cart  can  carry." 

"  No,"  said  Meldon,  "  she  won't.  From  my  ex- 
perience of  girls,  I  should  say  that  at  the  very  out- 
side she  won't  have  more  than  one  trunk,  a  smaller 
one,  a  hold-all,  two  hat-boxes,  a  dressing-case,  and  a 
small  hand-bag;  not  counting  rugs,  umbrellas,  and 
perhaps  golf  jclubs.  The  dressing-case  and  the  hand- 
bag we  shall,  of  course,  take  with  us  on  the  car. 
She  will  very  likely  want  them  in  the  hotel  before 
luncheon.  The  rest  will  easily  fit  on  the  cart.  I 
hope  you  told  Jamesy  to  start  at  once  and  drive 
lively." 

"  I  did.  I  told  him  to  be  off  the  minute  he  got 
the  luggage." 

"  That's  all  right.  The  luggage  ought  to  get  there 
before  we  do.  She'd  naturally  want  to  change  her 
dress  before  tea.  I  wish  now  that  we'd  thought  of 
telling  Mrs.  O'Halloran  and  Mary  Garry  to  unpack 
her  things  for  her." 

"  We  could  wire  to  them,"  said  the  Major,  "  if 
you  think  it's  necessary." 

"Better  not,"  said  Meldon.     "We'd  only  confuse 


58  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

Mrs.  O'Halloran.  What  with  the  afternoon  tea  and 
Mary  Garry's  cap  and  apron,  she's  over-excited  al- 
ready. A  telegram  might  upset  her  seriously,  and 
from  what  I  saw  of  Mary  Garry  yesterday  I  should 
say  that  the  sight  of  an  orange  envelope  would  drive 
her  into  hysterics." 

They  paced  the  platform  together  in  silence 
for  nearly  five  minutes.  Then  the  Major  spoke 
again. 

"You'll  take  her  on  your  side  of  the  par,  J.  J., 
and  talk  to  her.  I'll  drive." 

"All  right.  I  think  it  would  show  more  family 
affection  if  you  sat  with  her  and  let  me  drive.  But 
she's  your  niece,  not  mine,  so,  of  course,  you  can  ar- 
range it  any  way  you  like." 

"  I  don't  understand  girls,"  said  the  Major.  "  I 
couldn't  possibly  talk  to  one  for  two  hours  and  a-half 
straight  on  end.  You  can  point  out  all  the  objects 
of  interest  we  pass  on  the  way." 

"Of  course,  if  you're  afraid  of  your  own  niece, 
Major,  I'll  tackle  her  for  you.  I'm  not  nervous. 
So  far  as  Miss  Marjorie  herself  is  concerned,  I  dare- 
say she'll  prefer  sitting  with  me.  She  certainly 
would  if  she  knew  that  your  only  idea  of  conversa- 
tion is  pointing  out  objects  of  interest.  But  I  should 
have  thought  you'd  have  liked  to  hear  the  latest  news 
about  your  sister.  You  haven't  seen  her  for  twenty- 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  59 

two  years,  you  know.  You  ought  to  want  to  hear 
about  her." 

The  Major  made  no  apology  for  his  want  of  inter- 
est in  Mrs.  Purvis.  For  five  minutes  more  they 
paced  the  platform  in  silence.  Then  Meldon  looked 
at  his  watch  and  remarked  that  the  train  was  late. 
The  station-master,  being  appealed  to,  assured  them 
that  "  she  "  had  been  signalled  from  the  next  station 
and  would  arrive  in  less  than  ten  minutes.  He  was 
right.  Shortly  after  he  spoke  the  engine  panted 
round  the  corner  outside  the  station  and  dragged  up 
to  the  platform  two  coaches  and  a  luggage-van. 
The  Major  and  Meldon  peered  eagerly  into  the  two 
first-class  compartments.  One  of  them  contained  a 
Government  official,  a  dignified  gentleman  with  a 
despatch-box  and  a  cigar.  The  other  was  empty. 
In  the  second-class  compartments  there  was  nobody 
at  all.  From  the  other  coach,  which  was  made  up  of 
five  third-class  compartments,  there  emerged  three 
commercial  travellers,  two  labourers,  and  a  dishev- 
elled little  girl  of  about  ten  years  old. 

"  She  hasn't  come ! "  said  the  Major. 

"  No,"  said  Meldon,  "  she  hasn't.  We  may  as  well 
go  home." 

"What  on  earth  are  we  to  do?  Where  can  she 
be  ?  My  sister  Margaret " 

"From  what  you've  told  me   about  your  sister," 


60  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

said  Meldon,  "  I  think  it  highly  likely  that  Miss  Mar- 
jorie,  having  once  got  off  by  herself,  has  made  up  her 
mind  to  have  a  gay  time  of  it  in  Dublin  for  a  few 
days  before  coming  down  to  a  dull  hole  like  Bally- 
moy.  Lots  of  girls  do  that  sort  of  thing  nowadays. 
It's  what's  called  asserting  their  economic  independ- 
ence." 

"She's  lost!"  said  the  Major.  "Either  she's 
missed  the  train  in  Dublin  or  she's  forgotten  to  change 
at  Athlone.  Margaret  will  never  forgive  me!  I 
must  send  wires  to  every  station  along  the  line.  I 
shall  take  the  next  train  to  Dublin  myself  and  look 
for  her." 

"There  isn't  a  train  till  ten  o'clock  to-night. 
Don't  get  fussy,  Major.  The  girl's  all  right.  She's 
probably  rushing  about  the  streets  on  top  of  a  tram 
this  minute,  enjoying  herself  immensely.  I  know  ex- 
actly the  sort  of  things  a  girl  would  do.  She'll  turn 
up  all  right  in  two  or  three  days." 

The  station-master  approached  them  from  the 
other  end  of  the  platform  and  touched  his  hat: 

"  There's  a  young  lady  here,  Major,  who  says  she's 
expecting  you  to  meet  her." 

"Where?"  said  the  Major. 

The  station-master  pointed  to  the  little  girl,  who 
stood  alone  but  apparently  quite  self-possessed  near 
the  luggage-van.  A  porter  had  laid  a  small  leather- 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  61 

bound    cabin-trunk    on    the    platform    beside    her. 

"Good  Lord!"  said  the  Major.  "Can  that  be 
Mar jorie  ?  " 

"  She's  not  exactly  what  you  led  us  to  expect," 
said  Meldon,  "  but  she's  evidently  your  niece.  She's 
the  only  niece  you'll  get  here  to-day  anyhow,  so  you'd 
better  make  the  most  of  her." 

"  But  —  but  —  she's  a  mere  child !  " 

Meldon  left  him  and  walked  up  to  the  little  girl. 

"  Are  you  Marjorie  Purvis  ?  "  he  asked. 

She  stretched  out  her  hand  to  him  with  frank 
friendliness.  Her  face  was  very  dirty  and  her  hair 
was  dishevelled,  but  she  was  neither  shy  nor  embar- 
rassed. 

"  You're  Uncle  John,  I  suppose  ? "  she  said. 

"  No,  I'm  not,"  said  Meldon.  "  My  name  is  Mel- 
don—  Joseph  John  Meldon  —  and  you  can  call  me 
*J.  J.'  for  short  if  you  like.  Lots  of  people  do. 
Your  Uncle  John  is  standing  over  there  beside  the 
man  with  the  gold  band  on  his  hat  and  the  brass  but- 
tons on  his  coat.  He  doesn't  seem  to  be  a  very  affec- 
tionate uncle,  but  in  reality  he  is.  When  you  get  to 
know  him  better,  you'll  find  that  the  stiffness  of  man- 
ner which  strikes  you  now  will  wear  off  and  he'll 
become  quite  demonstrative.  The  thing  for  you  to 
do  now  is  to  go  over  to  him  and  kiss  him  heartily  on 
both  cheeks." 


62  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

"  He  doesn't  look  as  if  he  wants  to  be  kissed," 
said  Marjorie  doubtfully. 

"  All  the  same,  he  does.  That's  what  he's  waiting 
for." 

Marjorie  took  Meldon's  hand  and  led  him  along 
the  platform  to  the  Major. 

"  Uncle  John,"  she  said,  "  here  I  am." 

"How  do  you  do?"  said  the  Major,  putting  out 
his  right  hand. 

"J.  J.  said  you'd  like  me  to  kiss  you,"  said  Mar- 
jorie, "but  I  can't  unless  you  stoop  down." 

The  Major  scowled  ferociously  at  Meldon  and 
stooped.  Marjorie  kissed  him  decisively,  first  on  one 
cheek  and  then  on  the  other.  The  station-master 
grinned. 

"  Come  on  now,"  said  Meldon,  "  and  we'll  get  a 
bite  to  eat.  I  expect  you're  hungry,  aren't  you,  Mar- 
jorie? Your  Uncle  John  and  I  have  arranged  to 
have  a  chicken  and  some  chops  ready  for  you,  and 
a  custard  pudding  and  some  tinned  pineapple  which 
has  probably  gone  bad.  After  that  we're  going  for 
a  long  drive  on  a  'ear." 

"  With  a  nice  gee-gee,"  said  the  Major. 

He  felt  disappointed  in  his  niece  and  puzzled ;  but 
he  did  not  intend  to  allow  Meldon  to  take  entire  pos- 
session of  her.  He  believed  that  the  term  "  gee- 
gee"  was  the  proper  one  to  use  in  speaking  of  a 
horse  to  a  child.  Marjorie  looked  at  him  with  pity- 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  63 

ing  scorn.  Then  she  took  Meldon's  hand  and  hur- 
ried him  along  the  platform. 

"  Come  along,"  she  said,  "  and  let's  feed.  I've 
got  a  rare  old  twist  on ! " 

"  Good  God !  "  said  the  Major. 

"  Marjorie,"  said  Meldon,  "  does  your  Aunt  Mar- 
garet —  I  mean  to  say,  does  your  mother,  Mrs.  Pur- 
vis, allow  you  to  use  language  of  that  kind?  Do 
you  in  your  own  home,  in  the  presence  of  your  par- 
ents, speak  of  '  a  rare  old  twist '  ?  " 

The  child  looked  up  at  him  and  a  smile  broadened 
out  on  her  face. 

"  You're  not  mother.  You  don't  mind  what  I  say. 
No  more  does  Uncle  John.  He  was  silly  just  now 
about  the  gee-gee,  but  I  think  he's  a  nice  man  really." 

"  He  is,"  said  Meldon,  "  and  so  am  I.  But  it 
doesn't  follow  that  we're  the  sort  of  men  who  habit- 
ually use  bad  language." 

" '  Twist '  isn't  bad  language,"  said  Marjorie. 
"  But  I  do  know  some  bad  language,  real  bad.  I 
learned  it  from  a  sailor  on  the  ship.  It's  terrible 
bad  and  shocking.  Shall  I  say  it  for  you?" 

"  No,"  said  Meldon,  "  don't !  It  might  be  too  much 
for  me.  I'm  young  and  innocent  —  younger  than  I 
look,  a  good  deal.  But  some  time,  when  you're  alone 
with  your  Uncle  John,  say  it  to  him,  all  you  know 
of  it,  straight  out.  You'll  enjoy  watching  the  way 
he  takes  it." 


CHAPTER  VI 

MARJORIE  displayed  a  healthy  appetite  at 
luncheon.  The  chops  were  hardly  less  tough 
than  the  chicken,  but  she  ate  first  one  and  then  the 
other  with  apparent  enjoyment.  To  the  amazement 
of  her  uncle  she  also  liked  the  custard  pudding.  The 
pineapple,  after  Meldon  had  smelt  it  and  carefully 
dissected  a  slice  with  his  knife,  was  pronounced  unfit 
for  human  food,  to  the  great  disappointment  of  Mar- 
jorie. 

When  luncheon  was  over,  Major  Kent  whispered 
to  Meldon  that  he  wished  to  speak  to  him  privately. 
After  a  profusion  of  apologies,  which  Marjorie  ac- 
cepted graciously,  the  two  men  left  the  room. 

"Well,"  said  Meldon,  when  they  got  outside  the 
hotel  and  had  lit  their  pipes,  "  I  must  say  Miss  Mar- 
jorie has  rather  let  us  in.  She's  a  charming  little 
girl,  of  course  —  I  wouldn't  ask  a  nicer,  but  she's 
not  exactly  what  the  people  of  Ballymoy  have  been 
expecting." 

"  It's  entirely  your  fault,  J.  J.,"  said  the  Major, 
and  it  was  evident  that  he  was  seriously  vexed. 

"I  don't  see  that.  How  on  earth  can  it  be  my 
fault  that  your  niece  is  only  ten  years  old?  Blame 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  65 

your  sister  Margaret  if  you  must  blame  anybody,  or 
blame  Purvis ;  though  I  think  you  will  be  acting  un- 
justly if  you  do  even  that.  But  you  can't  possibly 
blame  me  or  speak  about  it's  being  my  fault." 

"  I  do  blame  you.  If  you  hadn't  gone  gassing 
about  the  town  saying  that  Marjorie  was  a  grown-up 
young  lady,  this  trouble  would  never  have  come  on 
us.  Now  we're  in  an  utterly  ridiculous  position. 
We're  committed  to  a  series  of  parties  and  an  ad- 
dress to  a  Lord  Lieutenant,  and  everybody  is  expect- 
ing to  see  a  fashionable  beauty.  Good  heavens,  J.  J! 
What  are  we  to  do  ?  " 

"The  address  to  the  Lord  Lieutenant  will  be  all 
right.  I'll  settle  that  with  Doyle.  The  parties  are  a 
bit  awkward,  I  admit.  I  suppose  we  couldn't  buy 
her  a  long  frock  and  pretend  she's  grown-up,  could 
we?  She  wouldn't  look  so  very  young  if  we  rigged 
her  out  properly.  Mary  Garry  would  do  up  her  hair. 
Marjorie  herself  would  enjoy  it.  It  would  be  the 
best  of  games  for  her." 

"  Don't  be  an  infernal  ass !  We've  got  to  see  the 
thing  through  as  it  stands.  But  whatever  possessed 
you  to  say  that  she  was  a  grown-up  young  lady  ?  " 

"  I  deduced  her  age  from  the  information  you  af- 
forded me,"  said  Meldon.  "  You  distinctly  said  that 
the  Purvises  had  been  twenty-two  years  married,  and 
that  the  girl's  name  was  Marjorie.  I  still  maintain 


66  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

that  the  inference  that  I  drew  from  those  two  facts 
was  perfectly  sound  in  principle.  It  has  turned  out 
to  be  wrong.  I  admit  that,  of  course.  But  nine 
times  out  of  ten  —  ninety-nine  times  out  of  a  hundred 
—  I  should  have  been  perfectly  right.  I  don't  see 
that  I  can  be  blamed  in  any  way.  The  responsibility 
for  our  unfortunate  position  —  and  I  quite  grant  that 
it  is  unfortunate  —  rests  entirely  on  you." 

"  It  doesn't !  I  never  opened  my  mouth  except  to 
say  that  I  knew  nothing  about  her  whatever." 

"  It  does !  You  ought  to  have  known  the  age  of 
your  own  sister's  child.  It's  a  great  shame  for  a 
man  like  you  not  to  have  kept  in  touch  with  his  sis- 
ter. There  you  were,  grossly  ignorant  of  the  very 
existence  of  your  only  sister's  only  child." 

"  She's  not  the  only  child.  I  happen  to  know  that 
much.  Margaret  has  written  to  me  again  and  again, 
and  each  time  she  has  announced  the  birth  of  either 
a  son  or  a  daughter.  I  think  there  must  be  ten  of 
them  at  least.  I'm  nearly  sure  that  I'm  godfather  to 
four.  I  suppose  this  one  is  the  youngest." 

"  If  you'd  told  me  all  that  at  the  time  when  we  first 
talked  the  matter  over,  I  shouldn't  have  been  so  con- 
fident about  Mar j  one's  age.  However,  there's  no 
use  in  going  back  on  your  past  mistakes.  I  don't 
want  to  twit  you  with  them  and  rub  them  in.  We 
must  get  back  to  that  poor  child.  She'll  be  lonely." 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  67 

"  Wait  a  minute,  J.  J. !  There's  no  hurry.  I  want 
to  make  some  arrangements.  We  must  spend  some 
hours  here." 

"Why?" 

"  Because  I'm  not  going  to  drive  through  Ballymoy 
till  after  dark.  I  couldn't  face  it.  Everybody  will 
be  out  watching  for  us.  You  saw  the  way  they 
turned  out  to  see  us  off.  It  will  be  worse  going  home. 
I  should  have  to  offer  some  kind  of  public  explana- 
tion." 

"Be  a  man,  Major!  Face  the  inevitable.  After 
all,  you'll  have  to  explain  sooner  or  later.  It  will  be 
easier  for  you  to  do  it  once  for  all  in  a  public  speech 
from  the  car  outside  of  Doyle's  hotel,  than  to  be 
dribbling  out  the  miserable  truth  to  one  person  after 
another  as  you  happen  to  meet  them.  Far  better 
get  the  thing  over  at  one  gulp." 

"  No.  If  I  get  safe  home  to-night  I'll  shut  myself 
up  and  leave  you  to  do  the  explaining.  I'll  write 
round  and  put  off  those  six  abominable  parties." 

"  You  can't  do  that.  It  would  be  absolutely  cruel. 
Mrs.  Ford's  got  a  new  dress.  She  told  me  so  her- 
self. One  or  two  of  the  parties  must  come  off.  If 
they  don't  she'll  fall  into  a  rapid  decline  and  her 
death  will  lie  at  your  door." 

"  Let  her  die !  What  does  it  matter  to  me  whether 
she  dies  or  not?" 


68  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

"  And  even  if  we  put  off  all  the  parties,  you've  still 
got  to  face  the  Lord  Lieutenant.  He's  not  likely  to 
die  just  to  oblige  you,  and  I  don't  see  any  other  way 
of  escaping  that  ceremony.  You're  absolutely  com- 
mitted to  it." 

"  I'll  send  round  word  that  the  child's  in  bed  with 
the  measles." 

"You  may,"  said  Meldon.  "You  may  tell  a  de- 
liberate lie  in  public.  You  may  cast  a  slight  upon  the 
representative  of  the  King,  insult  him  wantonly  in  a 
far  worse  way  than  any  Nationalist  ever  did;  but 
don't  imagine  that  you'll  escape  by  doing  that. 
You'll  be  found  out  to  a  certainty,  and  then  the  con- 
sequences will  be  worse  than  anything  you  can  imag- 
ine. From  what  I  have  seen  of  Marjorie  so  far,  I 
should  say  that  she's  not  at  all  the  sort  of  little  girl 
who'd  stay  in  bed  all  day  when  she  hasn't  got  the 
measles.  She'd  get  out  as  soon  as  your  back  is 
turned  and  go  wandering  somewhere  about  the  roads 
while  you're  perjuring  yourself  to  the  Lord  Lieuten- 
ant. Somebody  will  see  her,  and  then  you'll  be  in  a 
much  worse  position  than  you  are  now." 

The  Major  remained  silent,  overwhelmed  perhaps 
by  the  prospect  of  the  failure  of  his  plan. 

"You'll  hardly  go  so  far,"  said  Meldon,  "as  to 
actually  inoculate  the  unfortunate  child  in  such  a  way 
as  to  make  her  really  ill.  If  you  do,  I'll  denounce 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  69 

you  publicly.  I'm  very  fond  of  poor  little  Marjorie, 
although  she's  not  my  niece.  The  Lord  Lieutenant's 
wife  is  coming  round  here  specially  to  protect  chil- 
dren from  ill-usage.  If  I  tell  her  that  you've  been 
injecting  any  kind  of  vile  bacillus  into  your  niece 
Marjorie,  she'll  have  you  prosecuted  with  the  utmost 
severity,  even  if  she  has  to  get  a  special  Act  of  Par- 
liament passed  for  the  purpose,  and  she'll  be  perfectly 
right." 

"  Anyhow,"  said  the  Major  sullenly,  "  I'm  not  go- 
ing home  till  after  dark." 

"  All  right.  I  suppose  I  must  do  my  best  to  amuse 
Marjorie  for  the  afternoon.  There  is  an  old  castle 
and  almost  half  a  ruined  abbey  just  outside  the  town. 
I  don't  expect  she'll  care  much  about  them,  but,  un- 
less you  can  suggest  something  better  to  do,  I'll  take 
her  to  see  them.  I  expect  the  poor  child  is  weeping 
at  this  moment  in  the  hotel  from  sheer  loneliness  and 
from  having  nothing  to  read  except  railway  time- 
tables." 

Meldon  was  wrong.  Marjorie  was  not  weeping. 
She  was  not  even  in  the  coffee-room,  where  she  had 
been  left.  'He  and  Major  Kent  looked  at  each  other 
anxiously. 

"  There !  "  said  Meldon.  "  Now  you've  gone  and 
lost  your  niece.  You'll  have  to  be  more  careful 
about  her  or  there'll  be  trouble  afterwards  with  your 


70  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

sister  Margaret.  She  may  have  ten  children,  as  you 
say;  she  may  have  a  dozen,  but  you'll  find  she'll  re- 
sent the  loss  of  Marjorie." 

A  loud  burst  of  laughter  from  the  bar  of  the  hotel 
reached  the  coffee-room. 

"  I'll  get  those  people  to  come  and  help  to  look  for 
her,"  said  the  Major. 

He  crossed  the  passage,  followed  by  Meldon,  and 
pushed  open  the  door  which  led  to  the  bar.  Round 
the  counter  stood  the  landlord,  two  maids,  the  three 
commercial  travellers  who  had  come  in  the  train  with 
Marjorie,  and  several  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  town 
of  Donard.  On  the  counter,  picking  her  steps  very 
carefully  among  the  glasses,  was  Marjorie. 

"  Hullo,  J.  J. !  "  she  said.  "  Hullo,  Uncle  John !  I 
thought  you  were  never  coming." 

"  The  young  lady,"  said  the  proprietor  of  the  hotel 
apologetically,  "  was  just  showing  us  the  way  the  cap- 
tain did  be  walking  about  the  deck  of  the  steamer  she 
came  home  in." 

"  Marjorie,"  said  the  Major,  "  get  down  at  once ! " 

"I  hope,"  said  Meldon,  "that  you're  convinced 
now,  Major,  that  your  measles  plan  won't  work.  Is 
that  the  kind  of  child  who'd  spend  a  day  in  bed  when 
she's  perfectly  well?" 

Marjorie  was  lifted  from  the  counter  in  the  arms  of 
a  grinning  housemaid  and  deposited  beside  the  Major. 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  71 

"  Come  along,"  said  Meldon,  taking  her  hand. 
"  We're  going  to  see  an  ancient  castle.  It's  a  per- 
fectly fascinating  ruin  of  immense  antiquity,  full  of 
every  sort  of  secret  chamber  and  hidden  cave,  and 
ghosts  which  walk  at  night  in  clanking  chains." 

The  description  evidently  appealed  strongly  to  Mar- 
jorie.  She  passed  out  of  the  hotel  at  a  run,  dragging 
Meldon  after  her.  The  Major  followed.  They  were 
obliged  to  stop  several  times  in  order  that  Marjorie 
might  admire  some  sight  that  was  new  to  her.  The 
turf-laden  carts  excited  her  curiosity.  The  fact  that 
few  of  the  children  wore  shoes  and  stockings  aroused 
in  her  a  desire  to  take  off  her  own.  The  castle,  when 
they  reached  it,  proved  disappointing.  Nothing  sur- 
vived in  the  way  of  a  secret  chamber  or  a  hidden 
cave.  No  ghost  put  in  an  appearance.  Meldon  saw 
Marjorie's  face  fall.  He  roused  himself  to  provide 
some  entertainment  for  her. 

"  Let's  play  hide-and-seek,"  he  said.  "  You  and  I 
will  hide  and  your  Uncle  John  will  seek  for  us." 

"No,"  said  Marjorie  decidedly;  "I'll  seek!  You 
two  can  hide." 

"  Very  well.  Turn  your  face  to  that  wall  and  don't 
look  round  until  we  shout.  Come  along,  Major." 

Meldon  climbed  half-way  up  a  broken  stone  stair- 
case and  stood  hidden  by  a  projecting  corner  of  the 
wall. 


72  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

"As  soon  as  you're  concealed,  Major,"  he  said, 
"  shout  '  Cuckoo '  as  loud  as  you  can." 

Several  minutes  passed  in  silence,  and  Meldon  de- 
scended to  discover  what  had  happened  to  the  Major. 
He  found  him  wandering  among  the  ruins,  quite  un- 
able to  decide  on  a  hiding-place. 

"  Hurry  up !  "  said  Meldon.  "  You  mustn't  keep 
the  poor  child  waiting  there  all  day.  Here,  lie  down 
flat  behind  that  stone  —  flatter  than  that.  Your 
shoulders  are  sticking  up,  and  she'll  see  you  the 
moment  she  turns  round.  Now,  give  me  a  min- 
ute to  get  up  my  staircase  again,  and  then  shout 
'  Cuckoo.' " 

"  I  can't  do  that  —  I  really  can't,  J.  J.  It's  —  it's 
too  ridiculous." 

"You  must.  You'll  have  to  play  this  game  every 
day  more  or  less  for  the  next  six  weeks  —  except 
Sundays,  of  course.  You  may  as  well  get  used  to  it 
at  once.  When  you  undertake  to  entertain  a  child, 
there's  no  greater  mistake  than  to  do  the  thing  half- 
heartedly. Buck  up,  Major,  and  throw  yourself  into 
the  game." 

The  Major  shouted  a  feeble  and  wavering 
"Cuckoo!"  Marjorie  started  on  her  search  and  al- 
most immediately  discovered  him. 

"  Run,  Uncle  John ;  run !  " 

"Where  to?    Why?" 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  73 

"  To  the  den,  of  course.  Don't  you  understand  the 
game  ?  " 

The  Major  ran.  Mar j one  pursued  him.  After  an 
exciting  chase  he  took  refuge  breathlessly  on  Meldon's 
staircase.  Then  Marjorie  had  them  both  at  her  mercy 
and  enjoyed  her  position  immensely.  The  game  went 
on  again  and  lasted  till  every  possible  hiding-place  in 
the  ruin  had  been  exploited. 

"  It's  five  o'clock,"  said  Meldon.  "  Let's  go  and 
get  tea.  Then  we'll  start  for  home." 

It  was  nearly  nine  o'clock  when  the  car  reached 
Ballymoy.  Marjorie  was  sound  asleep,  with  her  head 
on  Meldon's  shoulder.  His  arm  was  round  her  and 
he  had  covered  her  with  a  rug.  It  was  fortunate 
that  there  were  very  few  people  in  the  street.  If 
Mr.  Doyle  or  any  other  of  the  chief  inhabitants 
of  the  town  had  seen  the  position  of  Major 
Kent's  famous  niece,  the  young  lady's  reputation 
for  propriety  of  conduct  would  certainly  have  suf- 
fered. 

"  J.  J.,"  said  the  Major,  "  how  do  you  suppose  that 
Mrs.  O'Halloran  will  take  this  —  this  alteration  in  our 
plans  ?  " 

"It's  very  difficult  to  tell,"  said  Meldon.  "I 
should  say  myself  that  if  we'd  told  her  at  first  that 
your  niece  was  a  child  she'd  have  packed  up  her  box 
and  left  you  on  the  spot.  As  it  is,  I  expect  she'll  be 


74  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

so  relieved  to  find  that  she  isn't  a  grown-up  young 
lady  that  she'll  be  quite  kind  to  Marjorie." 

"  I  hope  she  will,"  said  the  Major.  "  I  expect,  I 
am  confident  she  will.  What  I'm  afraid  of  is  that 
she'll  ill-treat  you  and  me,  especially  me.  Marjorie 
will  be  a  shock  to  her  after  all  the  preparations  she 
has  made." 

Mrs.  O'Halloran  had,  in  fact,  got  over  any  shock 
she  may  have  received  many  hours  before  the  car  ar- 
rived at  Portsmouth  Lodge.  Jamesy  Deveril,  who 
drove  the  spring-cart,  brought  home  the  news  that 
Miss  Marjorie  was  no  more  than  "  a  little  slip  of  a 
girleen,  maybe  ten  year  old,  and  maybe  not  that  it- 
self." Mrs.  O'Halloran  was  at  first  very  indignant. 
The  honour  of  Portsmouth  Lodge,  of  which  she  felt 
herself  the  [chief  supporter,  was  in  danger  of  being 
brought  into  public  contempt  by  Miss  Marjorie's  fail- 
ure to  come  up  to  the  descriptions  given  of  her  be- 
forehand. After  awhile  her  anger  gave  place  to 
anxiety.  As  the  appointed  time  of  the  arrival  passed 
and  hour  after  hour  went  by,  she  expressed  fears 
about  the  safety  of  the  party.  She  despatched  Mary 
Garry  again  and  again  to  "  the  top  of  the  hill  beyond 
to  take  a  look  if  there  might  be  a  car  coming  up  along 
the  road."  When,  at  last,  she  heard  the  wheels  on 
the  gravel,  she  rushed  from  the  kitchen  to  the  front 
door  and  assailed  Major  Kent  and  Meldon  with  an 
outburst  of  indignant  reproach. 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  75 

"  What  was  on  ye  at  all,"  she  said,  "  to  keep  the 
child  out  till  this  hour  of  the  night?  Have  ye  no 
sense,  the  pair  of  yez?  Here  it  is  near  ten  o'clock 
and  the  little  lady  ought  to  have  been  in  her  bed  two 
hours  ago.  Where  have  you  her  hid?  Is  it  drink- 
ing ye  were  beyond  at  Donard?" 

"  It  was  not,"  said  Meldon,  "  but  playing  hide-and- 
seek  in  the  old  castle." 

"  I  wouldn't  wonder  at  you  to  do  the  like,  Mr.  Mel- 
don. Sure,  everybody  knows  that  you've  no  sense,  no 
more  than  the  youngest  gossure  that  does  be  going 
to  school.  But  the  Major's  old  enough  to  know  bet- 
ter." 

"  Come  here  now,  Mrs.  O'Halloran,"  said  Meldon, 
"  and  take  the  child  from  me.  I'm  afraid  to  get  off 
the  car  with  her  the  way  she  is.  Stop  your  nonsense 
and  come  here." 

"  Nonsense,  is  it?  No,  but  sense,  more  sense  than 
ever  came  out  of  your  mouth,  for  all  you  think  you 
can  build  a  nest  in  a  body's  ear  with  your  talk."  She 
took  Marjorie  in  her  arms.  The  child,  half  awakened, 
began  to  cry.  "  Come  then,  alanav,"  said  Mrs.  O'Hal- 
loran. "  Come  to  me,  agra.  Will  you  loose  your 
hold  on  her,  Mr.  Meldon?  Haven't  you  made  trou- 
ble enough  for  one  day  with  your  hide-and-seek  in 
the  old  castle?" 

"  Take  her,"  said  Meldon.  "  Hold  her  carefully, 
and  don't  drop  her.  Give  her  a  cupful  of  hot  milk  — 


76  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

more  if  she'll  take  it.  Then  put  her  to  bed.  And  if 
you  can't  do  it  yourself,  get  Mary  Garry  to  help  you." 

Mrs.  O'Halloran  stood  speechless  with  Marjorie 
in  her  arms.  She  looked  at  Meldon,  and  longed  for 
words  which  would  express  her  feelings  towards  him. 
She  failed  to  find  them.  She  turned  and  entered  the 
house  in  silence. 

"  Mind  the  step,"  said  Meldon.  "  You'll  trip  over 
the  front  of  your  dress  if  you  don't  take  care.  You'd 
better  let  Mary  Garry  help  you." 

"  Me,"  muttered  Mrs.  O'Halloran,  "  that  has  reared 
six  of  my  own.  It  beats  all,  so  it  does!  The  Lord 
forgive  the  woman  that  was  mother  to  the  like  of 
him  and  sent  him  out  to  be  the  plague  of  the  world. 
Will  you  get  away  out  of  that,  Mary  Garry,  from  un- 
der my  feet?  What  would  suit  you  would  be  to  be 
fetching  the  nightdress  for  the  little  lady  that  I  have 
airing  before  the  kitchen  fire.  And  when  you  have 
that  done  you  can  go  in  and  attend  on  the  master  and 
Meldon.  They'll  be  wanting  something  to  eat  after 
their  gallivanting  and  play-acting." 


CHAPTER  VII 

MELDON  sat  late  that  night  at  Portsmouth 
Lodge.  It  was  twelve  o'clock  before  he  suc- 
ceeded in  reducing  the  Major  to  what  he  called  a 
reasonable  frame  of  mind.  In  the  end  it  was  settled 
that  the  first,  at  least,  of  the  parties  for  which  invi- 
tations had  been  issued  should  be  held ;  that  Meldon 
should  undertake  the  duty  of  explaining  to  Doyle, 
and  through  him  to  the  Ballymoy  public,  that  the 
Major's  niece  was  not  a  professional  beauty  but  a 
shabby-looking  little  girl  of  ten  years  old.  He  un- 
dertook to  make  it  quite  clear  that  the  Major  himself 
was  in  no  way  to  blame  for  the  disappointment  which 
would  certainly  follow  the  discovery  of  the  truth 
about  Marjorie. 

"  I  shall,"  said  Meldon,  "  take  the  initiative  in  this 
matter  of  explaining.  Venienti  occurrite  morbo. 
You  know  the  maxim,  Major;  or  very  probably  you 
don't,  as  it's  in  Latin.  But  the  advice  is  perfectly 
sound.  It  may  be  freely  translated  in  this  way:  If 
you  suspect  that  Doyle  is  going  to  tackle  you,  and 
you  have  a  weak  position,  don't  wait,  but  dart  in  and 
tackle  Doyle." 

"If  you  can  get  us  out  of  the  Lord  Lieutenant 
77 


?8  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

business,  J.  J.,  I  hope  you  will.  I  can't  tell  you  how 
I  shrink  from  that." 

"  I  hardly  expect  to  put  a  stop  to  the  whole  pres- 
entation project.  In  fact,  I  don't  intend  to  try. 
My  idea  is  to  make  such  alterations  in  the  plan  as 
will  be  suitable  to  the  existing  circumstances.  I 
shall  see  Doyle  first  thing  to-morrow  morning  and 
talk  the  matter  over  with  him.  I'll  let  you  know  how 
I  get  on.  I  shall  be  out  here  in  good  time  for  the 
tea-party  in  the  afternoon.  I'll  see  you  safe  through 
that.  And  now  I'll  say  good-night.  Sleep  sound, 
Major.  Nothing  unpleasant  can  happen  before  to- 
morrow morning  anyhow,  and  I  don't  see  why  any- 
thing unpleasant  should  happen  then." 

At  half -past  ten  o'clock  the  next  morning  Meldon 
walked  into  the  hotel  and  called  for  Doyle.  He  had 
a  delicate  and  difficult  negotiation  before  him  and 
intended  to  conduct  it  as  skilfully  as  possible.  It 
was  above  all  things  necessary  to  avoid  being  apolo- 
getic and  to  show  no  signs  of  anxiety.  Therefore 
he  began  the  conversation  without  any  reference  to 
the  Major's  niece. 

"  I  called  round,"  he  said,  "  to  tell  you  that  I'm  go- 
ing out  to  Portsmouth  Lodge  this  afternoon  at  about 
three  o'clock.  I'm  taking  my  dog,  Maher-Shalal- 
Hash-Baz,  with  me.  I  shall  be  very  much  obliged  if 
you'll  lock  up  your  brown  terrier.  I  don't  mind  a 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  79 

fight  in  the  ordinary  way,  but  I  hate  to  have  dogs 
rushing  up  against  the  front  wheel  of  my  bicycle  and 
upsetting  me  in  the  middle  of  the  road." 

"  I  know  a  man  down  in  Donard,"  said  Doyle 
slowly,  "  who'd  be  glad  to  buy  that  dog  off  you  if 
you  were  thinking  of  selling  him." 

"  Well,  I'm  not." 

"He'd  give  you  ten  shillings,"  said  Doyle,  "and 
what's  more  he'd  pay  you  back  the  half-crown  you 
spent  on  the  license  last  March." 

"  You  must  be  pretty  flush  of  money,  these  times, 
Doyle,  if  you'd  give  all  that  for  a  white  dog,  and 
you  with  a  brute  of  a  terrier  about  the  place  already. 
I  suppose  you  think  you're  going  to  make  a  fortune 
and  all  out  of  this  visit  of  the  Lord  Lieutenant." 

"Is  it  me?  What  would  I  do  with  your  dog? 
What  I  was  saying  was  that  a  man  away  back  in 
Donard,  a  cousin  of  my  own,  wants  him  for  killing 
.  rats." 

"  I  know  very  well  what  you  were  saying,  and  I 
know  what  you  were  meaning,  too.  What's  more,  I 
know  what  you'd  do  with  my  dog  if  you  had  him.  It 
shows  me  the  kind  of  man  you  are  and  the  way  you 
stick  at  nothing.  Just  so  as  to  have  it  to  say  that 
your  beast  of  a  brown  terrier  could  bite  the  head  off 
every  dog  in  Ballymoy,  you're  prepared  to  spend  ten 
shillings,  to  spend  twelve  and  sixpence  and  the  price 


8o  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

of  a  dose  of  strychnine,  to  get  hold  of  the  one  dog 
in  the  place  that  can  lick  yours  and  always  will." 

"There's  them  that  holds,"  said  Doyle,  "that  the 
clergy  is  the  curse  of  this  country,  and  that  Ireland 
will  never  be  anything  but  a  poor  backward  place  till 
we  get  rid  of  the  whole  pack  of  you,  Catholic  and 
Protestant  together.  I'm  coming  to  be  very  much 
that  way  of  thinking  myself.  Divil  the  man  ever  I 
met  but  you'd  get  the  better  of  him.  It's  too  cute 
you  are.  But  what  good  is  it  to  you  at  the  latter 
end?  Listen  to  me  now.  What  would  you  say  if 
we  was  to  shut  the  two  of  them  up  in  the  cow-house 
together,  your  white  dog  and  my  terrier,  and  lock 
the  door  on  them  the  way  nobody  would  interfere 
with  them?  Then  they  could  have  it  out  together  in 
peace  and  the  town  wouldn't  be  plagued  after  with 
their  goings  on  in  the  public  streets." 

"  I'm  surprised  at  your  suggesting  such  a  thing," 
said  Meldon.  "You  that's  a  magistrate,  and  the 
chairman  of  the  committee  that's  going  to  welcome 
the  Lord  Lieutenant  to  the  town.  I  didn't  think 
you'd  propose  to  me  to  get  up  a  dog  fight.  By  the 
way,  I  suppose  you  have  it  all  settled  about  the  pres- 
entation of  that  address  of  welcome." 

"  The  Lord  Lieutenant,"  said  Doyle,  "  is  to  be  here 
this  day  week,  and  her  ladyship  along  with  him. 
Father  McCormack  had  a  letter  about  the  visit  yes- 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  81 

terday.  We  have  the  address  ready.  It  was  last 
night  it  came  down  from  Dublin  in  a  packing-case. 
I  had  it  put  up  in  the  drapery  window,  instead  of 
the  bicycle  that  the  Major  took  away  yesterday.  You 
might  have  taken  notice  of  it  as  you  came  in." 

"  I  did  not  notice  it,  but  I'll  take  your  word  for  it 
that  it's  there  all  right.  I  suppose,  now,  your  milliner 
will  put  out  those  corsets  again  with  a  notice  to  say 
that  they're  the  same  make  that  Lady  Chesterton 
always  wears.  If  she  does  I  expect  Mrs.  Ford  will 
buy  a  pair.  She  has  a  great  respect  for  everything 
connected  with  the  Castle.  She  has  to,  of  course,  on 
account  of  her  husband's  being  an  R.M." 

Doyle  took  no  notice  of  this  suggestion. 

"  What  I  was  wanting  to  speak  to  you  about,"  he 
said,  "is  the  programme  of  the  proceedings  of  the 
day.  I  have  it  here  drawn  up  and  written  out  by  a 
nephew  of  my  own,  the  young  man  that  does  be  re- 
porting the  meetings  of  the  Board  of  Guardians  for 
the  Donard  Gazette.  He's  got  the  job  of  sending  an 
account  of  the  proceedings  on  the  occasion  of  the 
Lord  Lieutenant's  visit  up  to  the  Dublin  papers.  He 
has  it  ready,  all  to  one  little  bit,  so  as  he  won't  be 
behind  with  it  when  the  time  comes.  I  have  it  here 
in  my  pocket,  and  if  it's  pleasing  to  you,  I'll  read  it 
out,  so  as  you'll  be  able  to  tell  the  Major  just  what 
it  is  that  we're  proposing  to  do,  and  then  he'll  know 


82  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

that  it's  all  to  be  conducted  decent  and  proper.  Lis- 
ten to  me  now.  '  At  twelve  o'clock  sharp  the  Vice- 
regal party  drove  into  the  town  in  their  luxuriously 
upholstered  motor-car,  preceded  by  the  town  band  in  a 
two-horse  brake.  The  cortege  reached  the  convent 
gate,  where  a  halt  was  called.  The  girls  of  the  indus- 
trial school ' —  all  the  whole  lot  of  them  in  white 
stockings  and  white  cotton  frocks — 'rendered  with 
striking  expression  the  touching  song,  "  Come  back 
to  Erin."  '  That's  a  non-political  song,  Mr.  Meldon, 
and  commits  nobody  to  anything.  The  Major  can't 
have  any  objection  to  make  to  that." 

"The  Lord  Lieutenant's  an  Englishman,"  said 
Meldon,  "  and  his  wife's  an  American.  What's  the 
good  of  telling  them  to  come  back  to  Erin,  the  land 
of  their  birth?" 

"  Is  that  in  the  song?  But  sure  what  odds  does  it 
make?  Nobody  minds  the  words  of  a  song.  For 
the  matter  of  that  it's  few  ever  hears  the  words  of  a 
song,  barring  the  singers  themselves.  Listen  to  me 
now,  till  I  go  on  with  the  report :  '  When  the  proces- 
sion moved  on,  Father  McCormack  had  taken  his  seat 
in  the  motor-car  opposite  the  Lord  Lieutenant.' 
He'll  be  looking  as  affable  as  he's  able.  'The  band 
then  struck  up  "  The  Wearing  of  the  Green." ' " 

"  That's  a  political  song :  not  that  I  think  the  Lord 
Lieutenant  will  mind." 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  83 

"  He  won't.  Last  Patrick's  Day,  when  I  was  up 
in  Dublin,  I  seen  a  military  band  at  the  head  of  a 
whole  regiment  of  British  soldiers  in  red  coats,  play- 
ing that  tune  as  if  they'd  burst  with  the  pleasure  of 
it,  on  the  north  side  of  Stephen's  Green,  no  less.  Be- 
lieve you  me,  they  wouldn't  have  done  the  like  of  that 
without  they'd  got  their  orders  direct  from  the  Castle, 
so  it's  not  likely  the  Lord  Lieutenant  will  have  any 
objection.  Where  was  I  now?  I've  lost  my  place 
and  the  handwriting  is  mighty  crabbed.  '  The  next 
halt  was  made  at  the  door  of  the  Imperial  Hotel, 
where  a  sumptuous  luncheon  awaited  their  Excellen- 
cies and  suite. ' " 

"  It  seems  to  me,  Doyle,  that  you're  doing  yourself 
middling  well  in  this  business  from  start  to  finish. 
You'll  charge  them  five  bob  a  head  for  that  lunch, 
not  counting  drinks,  and  all  those  white  stockings 
will  have  to  be  bought  in  your  shop." 

Doyle  winked,  so  slowly  and  emphatically  that  his 
right  eye  remained  closed  for  nearly  a  quarter  of  a 
minute.  Then  he  went  on  reading  from  his  nephew's 
manuscript : 

" '  At  the  door  of  the  hotel  stood  Miss  Marjorie 
Purvis,  the  charming  niece  of  Major  Kent,  Esq., 
J.P.,  of  Portsmouth  Lodge,  supported  by  the  Rev. 
J.  J.  Meldon,  B.A.' " 

"  Right.    I'll  be  there ;  but  tell  your  nephew  to  put 


84  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

in  T.C.D.  after  the  B.A.  I'm  most  particular  about 
that." 

"  '  Major  Kent,  Esq.,  J.P. '  " 

"  I'm  not  so  sure  of  him.  If  I  were  you  I  wouldn't 
forward  the  account  to  the  newspapers  till  you've 
actually  seen  the  Major  supporting  his  niece." 

"'Mr.  Doyle,  J.P.,  Chairman  U.D.C.,  and  other 
prominent  citizens  of  Ballymoy.  Miss  Marjorie  Pur- 
vis, who  held  in  her  hand  an  address  of  welcome, 
beautifully  illuminated  in  a  chaste  Celtic  design  by 
Messrs.  O'Donovan  &  Smiles  of  Dublin,  wore  a  gown 

of '  The  young  fellow  that  wrote  that  out  said 

he'd  have  to  rely  on  you  to  let  him  know  beforehand 
what  the  Major's  niece's  dress  is  made  of  and  the 
colour  of  it.  I  suppose  now  it's  all  right  about  her 
presenting  the  address?" 

"  It  is,"  said  Meldon.  "  There'll  be  no  hitch  about 
that.  I'll  rehearse  it  with  her." 

"There  now,"  said  Doyle.  "Doesn't  that  just 
show  the  way  the  people  of  this  town  will  take  the 
greatest  delight  in  telling  lies?  Would  you  believe 
it,  Jamesy  Deveril,  the  same  that's  the  Major's 
groom,  was  round  and  in  and  about  last  night  putting 
it  out  that  the  Major's  niece  was  no  more  than  a  little 
slip  of  a  girl,  maybe  ten  year  old  and  maybe  not  that? 
I  said  to  them  that  told  me,  that  I'd  see  you,  Mr. 
Meldon,  and  if  I  didn't  ;care  to  be  asking  the  question 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  85 

of  you  right  out,  and  I  wouldn't,  I'd  draw  the  subject 
down  in  the  course  of  conversation." 

"  As  a  matter  of  fact,"  said  Meldon,  "  I've  been 
thinking  for  some  time  back  that  it  would  be  a  great 
deal  better  for  us  if  the  Major's  niece  turned  out  not 
to  be  quite  grown  up." 

Doyle  looked  at  him  suspiciously.  Meldon  felt 
that  he  had  reached  the  critical  point  of  his  explana- 
tion. He  pulled  himself  together  and  spoke  with  an 
air  of  deep  conviction. 

"  What  we  want,"  he  said,  "  is  to  give  the  Lord 
Lieutenant  a  thoroughly  happy  day,  the  sort  of  day 
he'll  look  back  on  in  after-years  as  one  of  the  most 
agreeable  he  ever  spent.  Now  I  need  hardly  tell  you, 
Doyle,  that  the  Lord  Lieutenant's  enjoyment  will 
largely  depend  on  the  amount  of  pleasure  we  give  his 
wife.  You  agree  with  me  there,  I  suppose?" 

"  I  wouldn't  say  but  that  may  be  right  enough," 
said  Doyle  cautiously. 

"  Very  well.  Now  what  is  it  that  Lady  Chesterton 
really  likes?  It  isn't  the  town  band  playing  tunes. 
She  hears  better  tunes  every  day  of  her  life  at  the 
Viceregal  Lodge  in  Dublin.  It  isn't  seeing  magis- 
trates and  Urban  District  Councillors  in  their  best 
clothes.  It  isn't  getting  illuminated  addresses.  They 
simply  bore  her.  She  has  whole  stacks  of  them  piled 
away  in  one  of  the  back  rooms  of  the  Castle.  It 


86  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

isn't  any  lunch  you'd  be  likely  to  give  her,  for  she's 
accustomed  to  a  solid  four-course  meal  every  day  at 
that  hour  in  her  own  home.  What  is  it  then? 
What  do  you  know  about  the  real  tastes  of  the 
lady?" 

"  I  shouldn't  wonder  but  I  know  as  much  as 
you  do." 

"  You  do  not  then.  I  don't  set  up  to  be  a  regular 
tame  cat  in  Dublin  Castle,  an  aide-de-camp  or  a  Vice- 
regal chaplain,  or  a  State  dentist,  or  anything  of 
that  sort,  with  a  right  to  the  private  entree  at  the 
levees;  but  I've  carefully  considered  the  habits  of 
every  Lord  Lieutenant's  wife  who  has  ruled  Ireland 
since  I  was  a  boy,  and  I  give  it  to  you  as  my  opin- 
ion that  there's  nothing  any  of  them  really  enjoy  so 
much  as  kissing  little  girls." 

"  I  never  heard  the  like  of  that  in  all  my  born 
days!" 

"  It's  true  all  the  same.  Read  the  newspapers, 
Doyle.  I'm  always  saying  that  to  you,  but  you  don't 
do  it.  Read  the  accounts  of  the  receptions  given  to 
every  Lord  Lieutenant's  wife  who  visits  anything  — 
convent,  technical  school,  hospital,  or  any  other  mor- 
tal thing  —  and  you'll  find  that  if  there's  a  little  girl 
on  the  premises  anywhere  the  Lord  Lieutenant's  wife 
kisses  her.  I've  known  her  pick  out  one  from  the 
middle  of  a  crowd  on  a  railway-station  platform  and 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  87 

kiss  her  on  the  spot.  Now  would  she  do  that  if  she 
didn't  like  it?" 

"  I've  heard  of  it  being  done,"  said  Doyle.  "  I 
don't  deny  that." 

"  Very  well.  Now  if  we  provide  a  grown-up 
young  lady  —  in  other  words,  if  Miss  Marjorie  Pur- 
vis had  turned  out  to  be  the  age  we  were  led  to  ex- 
pect—  the  Lord  Lieutenant's  wife  couldn't  very  well 
have  kissed  her.  I've  felt  that  difficulty  all  along, 
though  I  didn't  like  to  throw  cold  water  on  the  plans 
you  had  made  by  saying  anything  about  it.  But  now 
that  the  Major's  niece  turns  out  to  be  just  exactly 
the  age  and  size  that  Lord  Lieutenants'  wives  like 
best,  why  it's  a  jolly  good  thing  for  us,  and  we  ought 
to  be  thankful.  It  will  make  all  the  difference  in  the 
success  of  the  party.  Besides " 

"  You'll  excuse  me  interrupting  you,"  said  Doyle, 
"but  Father  McCormack " 

"  I'll  come  to  him  in  a  minute,"  said  Meldon. 
"  What  I  want  to  say  just  now  is  this.  Your  nephew 
wants  to  know  what  sort  of  a  dress  the  Major's  niece 
intends  to  wear,  so  that  he  can  put  a  description  of  it 
in  his  report  for  the  Dublin  papers.  As  it  happens, 
she  hasn't  brought  a  really  suitable  dress  with  her. 
What  I  propose  is  to  get  her  one  and  to  order  it  from 
your  dressmaker.  That'll  be  as  good  as  a  pound  into 
your  pocket,  net  profit." 


88  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

"  It  will,  of  course,"  said  Doyle. 

"The  Major  won't  jib  at  the  bill,  whatever  it  is. 
On  an  occasion  of  this  sort  he'll  want  to  do  the  thing 
decently.  I  wouldn't  wonder  if  you  made  a  clear 
thirty  shillings  on  the  dress." 

"And  what  will  it  be  like?"  said  Doyle.  "On 
account  of  my  nephew,  who's  writing  up  the  report 
of  the  proceedings,  I'd  be  glad  to  have  a  description 
of  the  dress." 

"  It'll  be  white  —  white  muslin  trimmed  with  silk. 
You  may  put  it  down  as  '  a  simple  but  charming  white 
frock,  relieved  with  bows  of  blue  ribbon  and  gath- 
ered at  the  waist  with  a  sash  of  the  same  colour.' 
Will  that  do  you?" 

Doyle  inserted  the  description  of  this  toilet  into 
his  nephew's  manuscript. 

"I'd  say  green  for  the  ribbons,"  said  Meldon, 
"only  that  the  Major's  such  a  strong  Unionist  I'm 
afraid  he'd  object.  But  anyway,  you  and  I  know 
that  blue  is  the  real  national  colour  of  ancient  Ire- 
land. Green's  a  mere  modern  invention." 

"Blue  will  do,"  said  Doyle;  "but  you'd  better 
bring  her  in  to  the  dressmaker  as  soon  as  you  can. 
There's  a  lot  of  dresses  ordered  for  the  girls  up  at 
the  convent." 

"Right.  I'll  have  her  in  to-morrow  morning. 
And  now  about  Father  McCormack.  This  alteration 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  89 

in  the  Major's  niece  will  have  to  be  explained  to  him, 
and  you'd  better  do  it.  You  needn't  go  into  all  that 
about  the  kissing.  It  wouldn't  interest  him,  and  he 
mightn't  like  it ;  though,  of  course,  he  couldn't  say 
there  was  anything  actually  wrong  about  it,  even  if  it 
was  the  Lord  Lieutenant  himself  that  did  it.  Kissing 
at  that  age  isn't  at  all  what  it  becomes  later  on.  But 
it  might  be  better  not  to  mention  it.  The  thing  for 
you  to  say  to  him  is  this:  Considering  that  the  main 
object  of  the  Viceregal  visit  to  Ballymoy  is  the 
amelioration  of  the  Irish  child,  we  thought  it  better 
that  the  Major's  niece,  who  is  to  present  the  address 
of  welcome,  should  be  a  child  herself.  He'll  see  at 
once  that  that's  quite  reasonable." 

"  I'll  tell  him  that,"  said  Doyle,  "  and  if  anybody 
else  says  a  word " 

"  Nobody  else  will.  If  you  and  I  and  Father  Mc- 
Cormack  and  the  Lord  Lieutenant's  wife  are  satis- 
fied, I  don't  see  that  it's  anybody  else's  business  to 
make  a  row." 

"  Nobody'd  dare.    If  anybody  did " 

"You'd  deal  with  him.  You  and  Father  McCor- 
mack  between  you.  Very  well,  then,  we'll  consider 
all  that  settled.  I  must  be  getting  on  now,  for  I've 
a  lot  to  do.  Good-bye,  Doyle.  Next  Tuesday.  I'll 
make  a  note  of  the  day  so  that  there'll  be  no  mistake, 
and  you'll  see  Father  McCormack." 


CHAPTER  VIII 

MELDON  arrived  at  Portsmouth  Lodge  at 
half-past  three  in  the  afternoon.  He  left 
Maher-Shalal-Hash-Baz  and  his  bicycle  outside  the 
hall  door  and  walked  straight  into  the  study.  Major 
Kent  sat  in  a  chair  near  the  window  and  smoked 
moodily.  His  copy  of  the  Times,  which  had  arrived 
an  hour  before,  lay  unopened  on  the  table.  It  was 
plain  that  he  was  suffering  from  an  acute  fit  of  de- 
pression. 

"  J.  J.,"  he  said  reproachfully,  "you  said  that  you 
could  manage  girls.  Now  is  the  time  for  you  to 
show  that  you  were  speaking  the  truth." 

"  I  said  I  understood  girls,"  said  Meldon ;  "  I  never 
said  I  could  manage  them.  No  man  living  can  man- 
age a  girl  if  she  has  made  up  her  mind  not  to  be 
managed.  At  the  same  time,  I  don't  anticipate  any 
difficulties  with  Marjorie.  She  struck  me  yesterday 
as  remarkably  tractable  and  amenable.  All  you  have 
to  do  is  to  show  her  that  a  thing  is  really  for  her 
good  and  she'll  do  it  at  once  without  grumbling." 

"All  right,"  said  the  Major  grimly.  "Here's  a 
letter  from  my  sister  Margaret.  It's  written  from 
Paris  and  it  arrived  here  by  the  midday  post.  In  it 
90 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  91 

she  says  she  hopes  I'll  see  that  Marjorie  washes  her 
teeth  regularly  every  morning  when  she  gets  up  and 
every  evening  before  she  goes  to  bed.  She  wastes 
half  a  sheet  of  good  notepaper  explaining  to  me  why 
teeth  should  be  washed,  and  recommending  different 
sorts  of  tooth-powder.  Now,  J.  J.,  what  do  you 
think  of  that?  And  I  may  tell  you  that's  only  the 
beginning.  There's  more  later  on." 

"There's  no  particular  difficulty  about  that.  I 
don't  myself  attach  undue  importance  to  the  washing 
of  teeth  or  anything  else.  I  think  there's  a  lot  of 
time  wasted  in  the  world  washing  things  that  don't 
really  need  to  be  washed,  especially  perhaps  teeth. 
In  all  these  matters  the  great  thing  is  to  follow  the 
guidance  of  nature.  If  we'd  been  meant  to  wash  our 
teeth  there'd  have  been  some  sort  of  brush  arrange- 
ment fitted  to  our  tongues  so  that  the  process,  would 
have  gone  on  automatically  every  time  we  talked. 
However,  that's  not  the  point.  The  child's  mother 
has  a  perfect  right  to  decide  whether  Mar j one's 
teeth  are  to  be  washed  or  not.  All  you  have  to  do 
is  to  follow  out  her  directions." 

"Do  you  mean  to  suggest,  J.  J.,  that  I'm  to  go 
prowling  into  the  girl's  bedroom  every  morning  and 
evening  and  examining  her  toothbrush  to  see  whether 
she's  used  it  or  not  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Meldon,  "  I  don't  suggest  anything  of 


92  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

the  sort.  Your  plan  is  to  ask  her  at  breakfast 
whether  she's  done  the  deed  or  not.  Marjorie  is  a 
truthful  little  girl.  You  can  see  that  by  looking  at 
her.  She'd  tell  you  at  once;  and  if  you  found  that 
she  was  shirking  her  duty  in  the  matter  you  should 
take  the  necessary  steps  afterwards." 

"Perhaps  you'll  ask  her." 

"  No,  I  won't.  I'm  not  her  uncle.  Coming  from 
me,  a  complete  outsider,  a  question  of  that  sort  would 
be  a  gross  impertinence.  It  would  scarcely  be  de- 
cent. Marjorie  would  certainly  resent  it,  and  get  to 
dislike  me." 

"  So  far  you've  not  turned  out  to  be  very  much  use 
to  me,"  said  the  Major.  "The  next  thing  I  am  to 
see  is  that  Marjorie  eats  slowly." 

"Why?    Is  she  inclined  to  bolt  her  food?" 

"  I  don't  know.  How  can  I  possibly  know  a  thing 
like  that?  Margaret  says  she's  to  chew  each  mouth- 
ful seventeen  times  before  she  swallows  it.  I  don't 
know  how  you  feel  about  that,  J.  J.,  but  I  simply 
can't  sit  opposite  a  child  at  table  and  count  how  often 
she  moves  her  jaws.  It  would  look  as  if  I  grudged 
her  the  bit  she  eats;  and  besides,  I'd  never  get  a 
comfortable  meal  myself." 

"Is  there  anything  else?"  said  Meldon.  "Let's 
have  the  whole  thing  at  once,  and  not  exhaust  our- 
selves by  discussing  each  detail  separately." 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  93 

"  I'm  to  see,"  said  the  Major,  "  that  she  wears  her 
blue  dress  only  on  Sundays,  and  her  cotton  frocks 
are  to  last  her  three  days  each  before  they're 
washed." 

"  That's  simple  enough,  anyhow.  You've  only  got 
to  go  at  night  and  lock  up  all  the  dresses  she  isn't  to 
wear,  and  then  she  must  put  on  the  right  one  in  the 
morning." 

"  It's  not  so  simple  at  all.  As  a  matter  of  fact, 
she  has  on  the  blue  dress  this  minute,  and  has  been 
wearing  it  all  morning." 

"  Let's  ring  the  bell,"  said  Meldon,  "  and  get  up 
Mrs.  O'Halloran.  If  the  child's  clothes  are  to  be 
changed,  either  she  or  Mary  Garry  must  do  it.  We 
can't." 

"  You'd  better  be  quick,"  said  the  Major.  "  Mrs. 
Ford  and  the  rest  of  the  tea-party  may  be  here  at 
any  moment." 

"  Come  on,"  said  Meldon,  "  we'll  go  into  the 
kitchen  and  interview  Mrs.  O'Halloran  there." 

After  making  a  few  preliminary  remarks  about  the 
weather  and  the  condition  of  the  crops,  which  seemed 
to  have  rather  an  irritating  effect  on  Mrs.  O'Halloran, 
Meldon  seated  himself  on  the  corner  of  the  kitchen 
table  and  opened  his  subject. 

"It's  the  Major's  particular  wish,"  he  said,  "that 
Miss  Marjorie  should  wash  her  teeth  thoroughly 


94  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

morning  and  evening  with  the  toothbrush  provided 
for  the  purpose.  Also  that  she  should  chew  all  her 
food  seventeen  times  before  swallowing  it,  and  never 
be  hurried  over  her  meals.  Also  that  she  should 
wear  her  blue  dress  only  on  Sundays,  and  the  others 
turn  about  for  three  days  each." 

"  The  Lord  save  us  and  deliver  us ! "  said  Mary 
Garry,  who  had  retired  from  the  kitchen  when  Mel- 
don  entered  it,  and  now  stood  in  the  scullery  door- 
way. 

Mrs.  O'Halloran  remained  severely  silent. 

"  The  Major  expects,"  Meldon  went  on,  "  that  you 
will  see  his  wishes  in  these  matters  punctually  and 
exactly  carried  out  —  you  and  Mary  Garry  between 
you." 

Mary  Garry  exploded  into  a  convulsive  giggle  and 
retired  to  the  depths  of  the  scullery. 

"  If  you've  nothing  better  to  do,"  said  Mrs.  O'Hal- 
loran, "  than  to  spend  your  time  coming  into  a  de- 
cent woman's  kitchen  and  talking  to  her  like  a  born 
omadhaun,  it's  a  pity  of  you !  Here  I  am  with  the 
sweat  running  down  off  my  face  striving  to  get  ready 
the  tea  for  them  that  you're  bringing  down  on  the 
top  of  what  was  a  quiet  and  peaceable  house  till  you 
took  to  disturbing  it,  and  as  if  that  wasn't  enough, 
you  must  come  in  here  on  me  with  a  pack  of  folly 
the  like  of  which  I  never  heard ! " 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  95 

"  It's  not  folly,"  said  Meldon.  "  It's  sound  com- 
mon-sense. And,  what's  more,  it's  what  the  Major 
wishes  done." 

"  You  may  talk,"  said  Mrs.  O'Halloran,  "  and  you 
may  swear  it  any  way  you  like ;  but  if  you  talked  and 
if  you  swore  till  you  was  to  raise  blisters  on  the  front 
of  the  [close  range  beyond  there,  I  wouldn't  believe 
that  the  Major  —  God  bless  him!  —  ever  thought  of 
the  like  of  that." 

Meldon  looked  round  for  support,  but  got  none. 
Major  Kent  had  slipped  quietly  out  of  the  kitchen. 
Mary  Garry's  head,  surmounted  by  the  white  cap 
with  the  long  streamers,  appeared  again  at  the  scul- 
lery door. 

"Well,"  said  Meldon,  "you're  right  so  far.  The 
plan  didn't,  so  to  speak,  originate  with  the  Major. 
Mind  you,  I  expect  he  would  have  hit  on  pretty  much 
the  same  things  if  he  had  sat  down  quietly  and 
thought  the  matter  out.  It  happens  that  he  didn't, 
and  all  I've  just  said  to  you  is  written  down  in  a 
letter  from  Miss  Marjorie's  mother  which  came  by 
post  to-day." 

"Arrah,  get  out!"  said  Mrs.  O'Halloran.  "Is  it 
the  child's  mother?  No,  but  it's  yourself.  There 
isn't  in  the  inside  of  the  four  seas  of  holy  Ireland 
another  but  just  yourself  that  would  have  thought  of 
such  divilment." 


96  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

"  If  you  don't  believe  me,"  said  Meldon,  "  I'll  go 
and  get  the  letter  and  show  it  to  you." 

"  You  might.  You  might  get  twenty  letters,  and 
twenty  more  on  the  top  of  them,  and  you  might 
spread  the  whole  of  them  out  on  the  floor  in  front  of 
me  so  as  a  hen  wouldn't  be  able  to  step  in  between 
them  the  way  they'd  be  covering  the  flags;  but  you 
wouldn't  get  me  to  believe  that  there's  e'er  a  woman 
such  a  fool  as  you'd  like  to  make  out  the  Major's 
sister  is.  Haven't  I  had  six  childer  of  my  own,  and 
don't  I  know  what  belongs  to  the  rearing  of  them  ?  " 

"  I'll  get  the  letter,"  said  Meldon,  "  and  maybe 
that  will  convince  you." 

"  Get  it,  then.  Get  it,  if  you  like.  But  you'll  not 
convince  me,  as  you  call  it.  Glory  be  to  God!  I 
couldn't  read  the  letter  if  I  had  it,  and  it's  well  you 
know  that  same.  Unless  it's  print,  and  big  at  that, 
I  couldn't  read  it.  So  you'll  not  impose  on  me  with 
your  letters.  Musha,  but  there's  the  bell,  and  the 
company  at  the  door,  and  the  tea  not  wetted.  Mary 
Garry,  will  you  go  and  answer  the  door,  and  will  you 
put  that  white  cap  with  the  ribbons  to  it  straight  on 
the  top  of  your  head  before  you  go,  if  so  be  that 
there's  any  straightness  in  the  like  of  it?  That's 
more  of  your  work,  Mr.  Meldon,  making  the  poor 
girl,  whose  father  is  a  decent  man  and  all  her  people 
respectable  —  making  her  look  like  a  play-actor  out 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  97 

of  one  of  them  circuses.  Go  on  with  you,  Mary 
Garry,  and  don't  be  delaying.  When  you  have  Mrs. 
Ford  and  the  rest  of  them  set  out  in  the  drawing- 
room  and  the  Major  opposite  to  them,  you  can  come 
back  to  me  here,  and  I'll  give  you  the  teapot  and  the 
sup  of  cream  to  take  to  them." 

"  Mrs.  O'Halloran,"  said  Meldon,  "  where's  Miss 
Marjorie?" 

"  Let  the  child  be.  She's  where  she  ought.  She's 
playing  herself." 

"  That's  all  very  well ;  but  she's  got  to  come  in  to 
see  the  ladies.  Either  you  or  I  must  go  and  get  her. 
Where  is  she  now?" 

"The  last  I  seen  of  her,"  said  Mrs.  O'Halloran, 
"  she  and  Paudeen  Canavan,  the  boy,  was  coursing 
the  black  polly  calf  round  the  tennis  court,  as  you 
call  it,  with  the  help  of  the  white  dog  that  came  out 
along  of  yourself." 

"  Her  blue  dress  will  be  ruined ! "  said  Meldon  — 
"  utterly  destroyed,  and  the  Major  will  never  hear  the 
end  of  it." 

"  The  master  says,"  said  Mary  Garry  at  the  kitchen 
door,  addressing  Meldon,  "  will  you  go  to  him  this 
minute  in  the  drawing-room." 

"  Mrs.  O'Halloran,"  said  Meldon,  "  for  the  sake 
of  the  credit  of  the  family  and  the  good  name  of  the 
house  that  shelters  you,  will  you  get  Miss  Marjorie 


98  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

and  mend  her  up  a  bit  before  Mrs.  Ford  sees  her? 
You'll  never  be  able  to  hold  up  your  head  in  the 
country  again  if  the  R.M.'s  wife  gets  a  sight  of  that 
child  in  the  state  she'll  be  in  after  coursing  calves 
with  Paudeen  Canavan  and  Maher-Shalal-Hash-Baz." 

"  When  I've  wetted  the  tea,"  said  Mrs.  O'Halloran, 
"  I'll  go  after  her.  If  there's  a  second  pot  wanted, 
Mary  Garry,  you'll  have  to  wet  it  yourself.  The  ket- 
tle's on,  and  it's  boiling." 

The  scene  in  the  drawing-room  when  Meldon  en- 
tered it  was  depressing.  On  the  sofa,  with  their 
backs  to  the  window,  sat  Mrs.  Ford,  Mrs.  Cosgrave, 
and  Mrs.  Gregg.  Opposite  them,  on  a  low  stool, 
was  Major  Kent.  Near  the  door  stood  Mr.  Ford, 
the  Resident  Magistrate,  and  Mr.  Gregg,  the  police 
officer,  with  their  hands  in  their  pockets.  In  the 
middle  of  the  room  was  the  tea-table,  covered  with 
cups,  sancers,  and  an  abundance  of  cakes. 

"  You  look,"  said  Meldon,  "  as  if  you  were  play- 
ing some  kind  of  game  and  the  Major  was  trying  to 
guess  the  word  you'd  thought  of.  Hullo,  Ford ! 
Hullo,  Gregg!  I  didn't  see  you  behind  the  door.  I 
suppose,  now,  that  you're  waiting  for  your  turns  till 
the  Major  has  given  it  up." 

Mrs.  Ford  greeted  Meldon  frigidly.  She  was  a 
lady  with  a  strong  sense  of  propriety,  which  his  man- 
ners were  continually  outraging.  Mrs.  Gregg,  who 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  99 

was  younger,  permitted  herself  a  wavering  smile. 
In  her  heart  she  wished  she  was  playing  a  game  of 
some  sort.  The  Major's  efforts  at  polite  conversation 
wearied  her.  Mrs.  Cosgrave  sighed  deeply.  Her 
husband's  bronchitis  was  worse  than  usual.  The  im- 
possibility of  educating  her  children  was  weighing 
upon  her  heavily.  Her  outlook  upon  life  was  gloomy. 

Mary  Garry  entered  with  the  tea. 

"  I  hope,"  said  Mrs.  Ford,  "  that  Miss  Purvis  will 
be  here  to  make  tea  for  us." 

The  Major  had  already  apologised  for  his  niece's 
absence.  His  courage  failed  him  when  he  reached 
the  point  at  which  it  was  necessary  to  explain  that 
she  was  not  of  an  age  to  pour  out  tea  for  a  party. 

"  Will  she  be  in  soon,  J.  J.  ?  "  he  asked  feebly. 

"  She  will,"  said  Meldon ;  "  but  don't  wait  for  her. 
She  doesn't  care  about  pouring  out  tea,  in  any  case. 
She'd  much  rather  you  did  it,  Mrs.  Ford.  I  know 
you  can,  for  I  saw  you  pouring  out  gallons  on  the 
day  of  the  school  feast.  By  the  way,  Mrs.  Cosgrave, 
have  you  ever  gone  into  the  subject  of  how  often 
food  ought  to  be  chewed  before  it's  swallowed? 
There  is  an  extraordinary  difference  of  opinion  on 
the  subject.  The  Major's  sister,  Mrs.  Purvis,  says 
that  every  morsel  ought  to  be  masticated  seventeen 
distinct  times." 

Mrs.  Cosgrave  sighed  again.     Mr.  Ford,  who  was 


ioo  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

a  singularly  well-informed  man,  took  up  the  subject. 

"The  late  Mr.  Gladstone/'  he  said,  "used  to  at- 
tribute his  good  health  and  great  mental  vigour  to 

the  fact  that  he  chewed My  goodness!  What's 

that?" 

A  loud  shriek  rang  through  the  room,  followed  by 
another,  and  then  a  series  of  anguished  appeals  for 
help. 

"It's  all  right,"  said  Meldon;  "that's  Mrs.  O'Hal- 
loran's  voice.  I've  often  heard  her  giving  directions 
to  Mary  Garry,  and  I  should  recognise  the  way  she 
speaks  anywhere.  There's  not  likely  to  be  anything 
wrong.  I  expect  she's  found  Miss  Purvis  and 
Paudeen  Canavan  cutting  the  throat  of  the  black 
polly  calf.  Sit  down,  Mrs.  Ford;  there's  nothing  to 
disturb  yourself  about." 

Mr.  Gregg,  with  the  instinct  of  a  policeman  paid 
to  maintain  law  and  order,  jumped  out  of  the  window 
at  the  first  alarm.  He  returned  obviously  in  a  state 
of  high  excitement. 

"  They've  got  your  filly,  Kent,"  he  shouted  — "  the 
chestnut  filly,  and  they're  galloping  her  round  the 
lawn." 

"Who?"  said  the  Major.  "Get  a  gun,  J.  J. ! 
Shoot  the  ruffians!  That  filly's  worth  a  hundred 
pounds  this  minute." 

Then  he,  followed  by  Mr.  Ford  and  Mrs.  Gregg, 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  101 

who  was  young  and  active,  got  out  through  the  win- 
dow. Meldon  conducted  Mrs.  Ford  and  Mrs.  Cos- 
grave  decorously  through  the  hall  door. 

At  the  gate  of  the  paddock  stood  Mrs.  O'Halloran, 
shrieking  wildly.  Mary  Garry  rushed  across  the 
grass,  also  shrieking,  her  white  streamers  waving  like 
flags  in  the  breeze.  She  had  the  dinner-gong  in  her 
hands  and  was  beating  it  violently.  Paudeen  Can- 
avan  was  urging  the  Chestnut  filly  to  a  gallop,  strik- 
ing at  her  flanks  with  a  stick.  Maher-Shalal-Hash- 
Baz,  barking  with  mad  excitement,  was  leaping  at 
the  filly's  nose.  Marjorie,  mounted  bareback,  was 
cheering  and  enjoying  herself  enormously. 

"  It's  all  right,"  said  Meldon  •  "  she's  quite  safe. 
She  has  a  seat  like  a  monkey,  and  there's  no  vice  in 
the  filly.  Don't  be  alarmed,  Mrs.  Ford.  Here, 
Gregg,  catch  that  boy  Canavan  and  wallop  him  with 
his  own  stick.  Don't  spare  him.  He's  an  orphan, 
so  nobody  will  take  an  action  against  you  after- 
wards ! " 

"My  God!"  said  the  Major.  "Can't  somebody 
do  something  ?  " 

"  We're  all  doing  what  we  can,"  said  Meldon. 
"  Ford,  you  catch  my  dog.  He's  exciting  the  filly. 
Just  be  careful  how  you  grip  him.  He  very  nearly 
had  the  hand  bit  off  Doyle  last  week.  Mrs.  O'Hal- 
loran, will  you  stop  shrieking?  It's  all  your  fault 


102  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

If  you'd  taken  that  child  upstairs  and  washed  her 
teeth  when  I  told  you,  this  wouldn't  have  happened. 
Now,  Mrs.  Gregg,  if  you  could  manage  to  get  a  hold 
of  Mary  Garry  you  might  sit  on  her  head  till  she's 
quiet,  and  then  tie  her  hand  and  foot  with  the  rib- 
bons of  her  cap  and  apron.  I  always  knew  those 
things  would  come  in  useful  somehow.  I'll  creep 
up  to  the  filly  and  get  the  child  off  her  back." 

Gregg  was  the  first  of  the  party  to  accomplish  his 
allotted  task.  The  wails  which  arose  from  the  mouth 
of  Paudeen  Canavan  gave  such  satisfaction  to  Mrs. 
O'Halloran  that  she  stopped  shrieking  to  listen  to 
them.  Mr.  Ford  pursued  Maher-Shalal-Hash-Baz  to 
the  remotest  corner  of  the  paddock  and  seemed  in 
some  danger  of  becoming  heated  in  the  chase.  Mrs. 
Gregg,  by  the  exercise  of  much  tact,  persuaded 
Mary  Garry  to  leave  the  paddock,  sit  down  on  the 
gravel,  and  stop  beating  the  dinner-gong.  Meldon 
approached  the  filly  cautiously,  uttering  words  of  en- 
dearment which  seemed  to  have  a  soothing  effect  on 
the  animal.  He  succeeded  at  length  in  lifting  the 
laughing  Marjorie  from  her  baclc  He  set  the  child 
on  the  ground  and  surveyed  her  solemnly. 

"  Marjorie,"  he  said,  "  you've  torn  a  hole  in  your 
blue  dress  the  length  of  your  arm.  I  don't  believe 
you've  washed  your  teeth  once  to-day;  and  just  when 
you  ought  to  be  sitting  in  the  drawing-room,  chewing 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  103 

bits  of  cake  seventeen  times  you're  off  riding  a  wild 
horse  in  a  field.    Aren't  you  ashamed  of  yourself?" 
"  Come  on,  J.  J.,"  she  said,  taking  his  hand  confi- 
dently, "  and  let's  get  the  cake.    I'm  hungry." 


CHAPTER  IX 

PAUDEEN  CANAVAN  suffered  a  great  deal  at 
the  hands  of  Mr.  Gregg.  He  was  sorry  that 
he  had  tut  so  stout  a  stick  for  the  purpose  of  bela- 
bouring the  chestnut  filly.  His  lamentable  howls  di- 
verted Marjorie's  mind  from  thoughts  of  cakes.  She 
stopped  on  her  way  into  the  house  and  demanded  par- 
don for  her  accomplice. 

"  Please,  J.  J.,  tell  the  man  not  to  beat  poor  Paudeefl 
any  more;  I  can't  bear  him  to  be  hurt." 

"Paudeen  richly  deserves  every  whack  he  gets," 
said  Meldon ;  "  it's  good  for  boys  to  be  beaten." 

"  But  I  don't  think  he  likes  it." 

"  He  doesn't.  If  he  did,  there'd  be  no  point  in  go- 
ing on,  but  the  less  he  likes  it  the  more  good  it  is 
for  him.  You  may  take  my  word  for  it,  Marjorie, 
he'll  be  glad  afterwards.  Everybody  is  glad  after- 
wards. If  I  hadn't  been  well  whacked  when  I  was 
a  boy  I  shouldn't  be  the  man  I  am  now." 

Marjorie  still  hung  back. 

"  Please,"  she  said,  "  don't  beat  him  any  more." 

"  If  it's  any  comfort  to  you  to  know  it,"  said  Mel- 
don, "  I  don't  mind  telling  you  that  he's  only  howling 
now  for  the  love  of  the  exercise.  Mr.  Gregg  stopped 
104 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  105 

beating  him  more  than  a  minute  ago.     He  broke  the 
stick  in  two  and  there  wasn't  another  handy." 

"  Come  on,  then,  and  let's  get  our  cake.  I'll  take 
a  bit  out  to  Paudeen  afterwards." 

"Hullo,  Major!"  said  Meldon.  "Hullo!  all  you 
people.  Marjorie  and  I  are  going  in  to  get  some 
tea.  Come  on,  Mrs.  Ford,  and  pour  it  out  for  us." 

Ford,  giving  up  the  chase  of  the  dog,  joined  Gregg 
and  the  Major.  Mrs.  Gregg,  whose  spirits  had  been 
improved  by  her  conflict  with  Mary  Garry,  returned 
to  the  drawing-room,  as  she  had  left  it,  through  the 
window.  Mrs.  Ford  and  Mrs.  Cosgrave  went  into 
the  house  together  by  the  door. 

"  I  thought,"  said  Mrs.  Cosgrave,  "  that  the  Ma- 
jor's niece  was  grown  up." 

"  So  we  were  certainly  given  to  understand,"  said 
Mrs.  Ford,  "  but  if  that  is  the  way  she  rides,  perhaps 
it's  as  well  that  she  isn't." 

Marjorie  had  of  necessity,  since  there  was  no  sad- 
dle, adopted  the  seat  on  horseback  favoured  by  lady 
warriors  of  primitive  times  and  by  certain  modern 
sportswomen  whose  portraits  grace  the  illustrated  pa- 
pers. 

"  She's  very  young,"  said  Mrs.  Cosgrave  apologet- 
ically. 

"  Still,  it's  not  a  nice  way  to  ride.  I  shouldn't  like 
my  little  girl  to  do  it,  and  she's  only  six." 


io6  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

Mrs.  Cosgrave  adopted  a  bolder  line  of  defence. 

"  She  comes  from  Australia,"  she  said.  "  Perhaps 
Australian  ladies " 

"No,  they  don't,"  said  Mrs.  Ford. 

She  sat  down  opposite  the  tea-table  and  looked  at 
Marjorie  with  strong  disapproval. 

"  Now,"  said  Meldon,  when  everyone  had  been  pro- 
vided with  tea  and  cake,  "  we  have  three  ladies  here. 
Which  of  them  will  volunteer  to  mend  the  tear  in 
Marjorie's  blue  dress?  Neither  the  Major  nor  I  are 
any  good  at  sewing." 

Marjorie's  escapade  had  the  effect  of  brightening 
the  wits  of  the  whole  party.  There  were  jokes  made 
by  Ford  and  Gregg  about  the  torn  dress  and  the 
coursing  of  the  calf.  Mrs.  Gregg  crossed  the  room 
and  sat  down  beside  Marjorie. 

"  Will  you  be  so  good,  Mrs.  Gregg,"  said  Meldon, 
"  as  to  see  that  she  chews  that  piece  of  cake  seventeen 
times  at  least?  As  she  has  now  arrived  at  a  solid 
chunk  of  almond  icing,  it  might  be  as  well  to  chew 
it  twenty  times.  Ought  a  little  girl  to  eat  almond 
icing  in  large  quantities,  Mrs.  Ford  ?  " 

Even  Mrs.  Ford  thawed  a  little.  She  hinted  at  an 
invitation  to  Marjorie  to  spend  the  day  with  her  lit- 
tle girl.  Marjorie,  hearing  that  the  friend  proposed 
for  her  was  only  six  years  old,  did  not  seem  particu- 
larly pleased.  The  tea-party  began  to  bore  her. 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  107 

"  If  you've  finished,  J.  ].,"  she  said,  "  will  you  come 
and  take  some  cake  to  poor  Paudeen  and  some  to 
the  white  dog  ?  " 

"  Mrs.  Gregg  will  come  too,"  said  Meldon  as  he 
rose.  "  Don't  you  fret  about  Marjorie,  Major. 
We'll  take  her  out  and  keep  her  safe,  and  Mrs.  Gregg 
will  mend  the  blue  frock  to-morrow." 

The  astonished  Paudeen  was  given  two  large 
slices  of  cake.  He  had  retired  to  the  stable  to  nurse 
his  bruises  and  was  only  discovered  after  a  long 
search.  There  was  no  difficulty  about  finding  Maher- 
Shalal-Hash-Baz.  He  lay  with  his  tongue  out  in  the 
middle  of  the  paddock.  His  eyes  were  fixed  on  the 
door  through  which  Mr.  Ford  had  disappeared.  He 
was  evidently  ready  for  another  chase  as  soon  as  any- 
one cared  to  pursue  him.  He  also  was  fed  with  cake. 

"  Marjorie,"  said  Meldon,  "  would  you  like  to  pre- 
sent an  address  of  welcome  to  the  Lord  Lieutenant's 
wife?" 

"  Should  I  be  dressed  up,"  said  Marjorie,  "  the 
same  as  I  was  at  the  charades  we  had  last  year?" 

"Not  perhaps  in  the  same  costume,"  said  Meldon. 
"  But  you  would  be  dressed  up.  What  I  had  in  my 
mind  for  you  was  a  white  frock  with  blue  ribbons." 

"  I'd  rather  be  a  fairy,"  said  Marjorie,  "  with  gold 
wings  and  a  star  in  my  hair,  and  a  wand  and  shiny 
things  all  down  my  front." 


io8  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

"  I'm  more  or  less  committed  to  the  white  frock," 
said  Meldon.  "  Still,  the  fairy  dress  might  be  man- 
aged if  your  heart  is  set  on  it.  I  don't  suppose  the 
account  of  the  reception  is  actually  in  print  yet.  The 
question  is,  could  the  dressmaker  in  Doyle's  shop 
make  a  fairy  costume?  What  do  you  say,  Mrs. 
Gregg?" 

"  She'd  look  sweet,"  said  Mrs.  Gregg,  "  but  perhaps 
it  wouldn't  do.  The  Major  mightn't  like  it." 

"  He'd  love  it,"  said  Meldon.  "  All  he  wants  is  to 
have  the  business  carried  through  in  the  best  possi- 
ble style.  Besides,  in  any  case  he  won't  be  there. 
He  never  puts  in  an  appearance  at  things  of  the 
kind." 

"  Fairies,"  said  Marjorie,  "  have  gold  shoes,  and 
their  wings  are  made  so  as  you  can  see  through  them, 
with  gold  spots  on  them.  I  do  want  to  be  a  fairy." 

"  I'd  love  to  dress  her  up,"  said  Mrs.  Gregg. 

"  I  am  sure,"  said  Meldon,  "  that  the  Lord  Lieuten- 
ant will  be  delighted.  So  will  Lady  Chesterton. 
They  are  coming  here  to  ameliorate  the  children,  and 
they're  sure  to  be  pleased  if  we  have  one  child  ready 
ameliorated  before  they  come.  You  can't  ameliorate 
a  child  more  than  by  making  her  into  a  fairy." 

"  I  know  I  have  a  lot  of  tinsel  and  stars  laid  by 
somewhere,"  said  Mrs.  Gregg.  "  I  had  them  for 
tableaux  vivants  before  I  was  married." 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  109 

"  Very  well,"  said  Meldon,  "  we'll  consider  that  set- 
tled. You'll  come  round  here  to-morrow  morning  at 
eleven,  Mrs.  Gregg,  and  drive  Marjorie  in  to  the 
dressmaker.  Bring  all  the  gold  and  silver  gauze  you 
have.  I'll  leave  the  whole  matter  in  your  hands,  and 
I'm  sure  you'll  do  it  admirably." 

"But  the  Major " 

"  I'll  settle  with  the  Major.  You  can  leave  that  en- 
tirely to  me.  I'll  see  Doyle  about  the  matter  too. 
I'll  tell  him  that  Marjorie  will  be  dressed  as  an  Irish 
fairy  of  the  most  strictly  patriotic  kind,  either  as 
Maeve  or  Granuaile,  or  one  of  the  Tuath  de  Danaan 
princesses.  I'll  get  him  to  sound  Father  McCormack 
about  having  some  of  the  convent-school  girls  down 
to  act  as  a  body  of  attendant  leprechauns." 

"  What  is  a  leprechaun?  "  said  Marjorie.  "  I  don't 
know  if  I'd  like  leprechauns." 

"  Mrs.  Gregg,"  said  Meldon,  "  will  explain  to  you 
the  nature  and  habits  of  leprechauns  while  she  drives 
you  in  to  Ballymoy  to-morrow." 

"  But  I'm  afraid  I  don't " 

Meldon  interrupted  the  lady's  confession  of  ig- 
norance. 

"  If  you'll  forgive  my  saying  so,  you  ought  to. 
There's  no  excuse  nowadays  for  any  person  of  aver- 
age education  who  doesn't  know  what  a  leprechaun  is. 
The  country  is  simply  inundated  with  literature  about 


i  io  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

them.  You  won't,  of  course,  get  an  article  on  the 
subject  in  that  encyclopaedia  which  Mr.  Gregg  was 
fool  enough  to  buy.  It's  hopelessly  out  of  date. 
But  take  any  poet  —  Irish  poet  or  artist  —  and  you'll 
find  all  you  could  possibly  want  to  know  about  the 
habits,  tastes,  and  personal  appearance  of  the  ordinary 
leprechaun." 

"  Perhaps,"  said  Mrs.  Gregg,  "  we'd  better  be  go- 
ing back  into  the  house.  Major  Kent  and  the  others 
will  be  wondering  what's  become  of  us." 

They  found  Mrs.  Ford  in  the  act  of  taking  leave 
of  her  host.  Mrs.  Cosgrave,  who  was  driving  home 
with  her,  had  already  said  a  sorrowful  good-bye.  Mr. 
Ford  was  in  the  yard  harnessing  his  cob  with  the 
help  of  Paudeen  Canavan. 

"  Major,"  said  Meldon,  after  the  departure  of  the 
three  elder  guests,  "  Mrs.  Gregg  is  going  to  take  Mar- 
jorie  for  a  drive  to-morrow  morning.  Remember  to 
see  Mrs.  O'Halloran  this  evening  and  arrange  with 
her  about  the  poor  child's  hat  and  gloves  and  things." 

"  Mother  says  I  needn't  wear  gloves,"  said  Mar- 
jorie,  "  except  on  Sundays." 

"  Very  well,"  said  Meldon,  "  I  should  have  said 
myself  that  wearing  gloves  was  much  more  important 
than  washing  teeth;  but,  of  course,  if  your  mother 
says  you're  not  to  wear  them,  you  needn't." 

When  the  Greggs  drove  away  a  few  minutes  later, 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  in 

Marjorie  announced  that  she  was  going  into  the 
kitchen  to  learn  to  make  potato-cake. 

"  Mrs.  O'Halloran  promised  she'd  teach  me,"  she 
said,  "  as  soon  as  ever  she  had  a  minute  to  herself." 

"  J.  ]."  said  the  Major,  "  come  into  the  study  and 
have  a  pipe.  Stay  and  dine  with  me,  like  a  good 
fellow.  I'd  like  to  have  a  talk  with  you." 

"If  you  have  it  in  your  mind,"  said  Meldon,  "  that 
you'll  persuade  me  to  see  after  Marjorie's  teeth  to- 
night, you  may  give  the  idea  up  at  once.  I've  spoken 
to  her  twice  this  afternoon  on  the  subject,  and  I'll 
do  no  more." 

"  It's  not  that.     It's  —  but  come  and  smoke." 

"  Look  here,"  said  the  Major  firmly  when  his  pipe 
was  lit.  "I  can't  and  won't  stand  any  more  of 
this.  I've  put  in  a  very  trying  afternoon  talking  to 
Mrs.  Ford  and  Mrs.  Cosgrave.  I've  talked  till  — 
till " 

"  Till  your  tongue  clave  to  the  roof  of  your  mouth. 
That's  in  the  Psalms.  You  ought  to  know  the  Psalms 
better  than  you  do.  They'd  often  help  you  out  when 
your  feelings  are  too  strong  for  ordinary  words." 

"  I've  had  an  awful  fright.  I  thought  the  chestnut 
filly  would  be  lamed  and  the  child  killed.  I  can't  go 
through  many  more  days  like  this.  I  have  made  up 
my  mind  to  get  a  competent  woman  of  some  sort  to 
look  after  Marjorie  while  she's  here  —  a  governess 


ii2  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

or  a  lady  companion,  or  a  mother's  help.  I  shall  ad- 
vertise to-morrow." 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  to  do,"  said  Meldon.  "  Invite 
my  little  girl  down  for  a  month.  She'd  come  like  a 
shot  for  the  sake  of  being  near  me,  and  she'd  simply 
love  Marjorie." 

"  No,"  said  the  Major  decidedly.  "  She'd  turn  out 
to  be  worse  than  Marjorie.  I'd  have  two  of  them  on 
my  hands  then  instead  of  one." 

"  Gladys  Muriel  is  quite  grown  up." 

"I've  only  your  word  for  that,  and,  to  put  the 
thing  quite  plainly,  I  don't  trust  you.  You  said  Mar- 
jorie was  grown  up,  and  look  at  what  she  turns  out." 

"Hang  it  all,  Major,  be  reasonable!  I'm  engaged 
to  be  married  to  Gladys  Muriel.  How  could  I  pos- 
sibly be  engaged  to  her  if  she  was  only  ten  years 
old?" 

"  Anyhow,  what  I  want  is  someone  who's  not  only 
grown  up  but  elderly.  I  want  a  woman  with  grey 
hair,  who  has  some  sense  of  responsibility." 

"  If  you  bring  one  of  that  sort  into  the  house," 
said  Meldon,  "  Mrs.  O'Halloran  will  leave  at  once. 
Don't  be  so  frightfully  despondent.  Nothing  very 
bad  has  happened  yet,  and  I  don't  expect  that  any- 
thing will." 

"You  don't  know  my  sister  Margaret." 

"You're  thinking  of  the  tear  there  is  in  the  blue 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  113 

dress,"  said  Meldon.  "  Now  I'll  tell  you  what  to  do 
about  that.  You  sneak  up  to-night  when  the  child's 
asleep  and  collar  the  dress.  Do  it  up  neatly  in  a 
brown-paper  parcel  and  take  it  in  to-morrow  to 
Doyle's  dressmaker.  Tell  her  to  make  another  dress 
exactly  similar  in  all  respects  —  barring  the  tear,  of 
course.  When  she  has  finished,  keep  it  yourself  in 
a  safe  place  until  the  time  comes  for  Mrs.  Purvis  to 
see  it.  Then  slip  it  in  among  Marjorie's  other 
clothes,  and  nobody  will  be  a  bit  the  wiser." 

"  It's  not  only  the  dress,"  said  the  Major ;  "  it's  a 
lot  of  other  things.  It's  Mrs.  Ford.  I  could  see  that 
she  disapproved  strongly  of  the  way  in  which  I  was 
treating  Mar j one.  She  looked  at  me  this  afternoon 
in  the  most  frightful  manner.  If  she  gets  a  chance 
of  talking  to  Margaret  —  and  she  may  when  the  Pur- 
vises come  to  get  the  child  —  I  shall  be " 

"  If  you  like,"  said  Meldon,  "  I'll  go  round  to  Mrs. 
Ford  to-morrow  morning  and  tell  her  that  if  she  so 
much  as  looks  crooked  at  Marjorie  I'll  get  Doyle  to 
speak  to  the  Lord  Lieutenant  and  have  Ford  jolly 
well  cleared  out  of  this.  As  President  of  the  League 
in  this  locality,  Doyle  has,  of  course,  a  lot  of  influence 
with  the  Government,  and  if  Father  McCormack 
backs  him  up  —  as  I  haven't  the  slightest  doubt  he 
will  —  the  thing  will  be  as  good  as  done.  The  Fords 
know  that  just  as  well  as  you  and  I  do." 


ii4  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

"  Nothing  on  earth  would  induce  me  to  do  any- 
thing of  the  sort.  Do  you  think  I'd  go  on  my  knees 
to  a  fellow  like  Doyle?" 

"  You  needn't  do  that.  All  that's  required  is  to  let 
me  threaten  Ford  that  if  his  wife  goes  on  making  her- 
self objectionable  to  Marjorie " 

"  No,"  said  the  Major  decisively.  "  After  all,  J.  J., 
Mrs.  Ford  is  only  a  small  part  of  the  trouble.  How 
do  I  know  what  Marjorie  will  do  next?" 

"  You  and  Mrs.  O'Halloran  and  Mary  Garry  be- 
tween you  ought  to  be  able  to  keep  an  eye  on  her 
from  breakfast-time  to-morrow  morning  till  eleven 
o'clock.  Then  Mrs.  Gregg  will  have  charge  of  her 
till  luncheon.  After  that  you  can  turn  her  on  to  learn 
to  ride  the  bicycle  you  bought  her.  Paudeen  Can- 
avan  can  run  up  and  down  alongside  of  her  and  keep 
her  from  falling.  It  will  be  fine  exercise  for  him, 
and  from  what  I've  seen  of  Marjorie  I  think  she's 
likely  to  keep  him  at  it  once  she  gets  him  started. 
When  he'd  had  three  hours  or  so  of  that  work,  hell 
not  be  so  keen  as  he  was  this  afternoon  on  coursing 
calves  and  chasing  fillies.  He'll  be  looking  out  for 
some  more  sedentary  occupation.  I  shall  be  busy  to- 
morrow and  may  not  be  able  to  get  out  to  Portsmouth 
Lodge  myself,  but  you'll  find  that  if  you  follow  the 
plan  I've  laid  down  nothing  really  unpleasant  will 
happen," 


CHAPTER  X 

IT  was  two  o'clock  when  Meldon  sat  down  to  din- 
ner on  the  day  after  the  tea-party  at  Portsmouth 
Lodge.  The  meal  had  been  ready  for  him  at  half- 
past  one,  and  there  was  nothing  to  prevent  his  eating 
it  at  that  hour  except  his  dislike  of  punctuality.  The 
postmaster's  wife,  who  had  a  kind  heart  and  knew 
that  cold  chops  are  considered  unpalatable,  remon- 
strated with  him.  He  explained  to  her  at  some 
length  a  favourite  theory  of  his.  He  held  that  the 
human  soul  is  degraded  by  bondage  of  any  kind,  and 
the  obligation  to  observe  fixed  hours,  even  when  self- 
imposed,  is  a  particularly  vicious  kind  of  slavery. 
The  explanation  occupied  some  time,  and  it  was  not 
until  a  quarter-past  two  that  Meldon  actually  uncov- 
ered his  chops.  Before  he  had  begun  to  eat  Mr. 
Doyle  tapped  at  the  door  and  entered  the  room. 

"Where  were  you  all  morning?"  he  said  in  an 
aggrieved  tone.  "  I  was  looking  for  you  since 
twelve  o'clock,  and  sorra  the  man  or  woman  seemed 
to  know  where  you  had  hid  yourself.  I  wanted  to 
speak  to  you  about  the  presenting  of  this  address  to 
the  Lord  Lieutenant  and  his  lady." 

"  I  was  engaged,"  said  Meldon  grandly,  "  in  pur- 
115 


n6  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

suing  my  professional  avocation.  I  was  performing 
the  duties  for  the  sake  of  which  I  am  placed  here  in 
Ballymoy.  You  mustn't  suppose  I've  nothing  to  do 
but  run  round  cleaning  up  the  mess  you  make  in  ar- 
ranging for  the  Lord  Lieutenant's  visit.  That  busi- 
ness may  seem  very  important  to  you,  Mr.  Doyle,  but 
I've  other  things  to  think  of  —  though,  of  course,  if 
you  and  Father  McCormack  are  in  any  kind  of  trou- 
ble, I'll  be  delighted  to  help  you  out." 

"What's  this  I  hear  from  the  dressmaker?"  said 
Doyle.  "  She  was  round  with  me  at  a  quarter  to 
twelve  with  some  talk  about  fairies  or  such." 

"  I  don't  know  what  she  may  have  said,  or  how 
you  may  have  misunderstood  her,  or  what  sort  of  a 
muddle  you  may  be  making  of  the  matter  between 
you,  but  the  plain  facts  of  the  case  are  these:  Your 
dressmaker,  acting  under  the  directions  of  Mrs. 
Gregg,  is  putting  together  for  the  Major's  niece  a 
dress  such  as  the  early  Irish  fairies  habitually  wore, 
and  in  that  costume  Miss  Marjorie  Purvis  will  pre- 
sent your  illuminated  address  to  the  Lord  Lieutenant's 
wife." 

"Well  I'm  damned!" 

"  I  don't  deny,"  said  Meldon,  "  that  you  very  prob- 
ably will  be.  But  I  strongly  object  to  your  saying 
so.  I  can't  stand  bad  language,  and  if  you  insist  on 
using  it  you'll  go  straight  out  of  this  room  with  the 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  117 

toe  of  my  boot  pressed  against  the  seat  of  your 
breeches;  and  what's  more,  I'll  set  on  Maher-Shalal- 
Hash-Baz  to  worry  the  life  out  of  your  brown  dog 
the  next  time  I  catch  sight  of  him.  I  detest  swear- 
ing." 

"I'll  not  be  made  a  fool  of,"  said  Doyle,  "with 
your  fairies  and  your  play-acting.  What  I  say  is  that 
the  thing  must  be  done  decent  or  not  at  all." 

"  If  you  weren't  a  fool  already  without  making  of 
any  kind,  you'd  be  up  this  minute  at  the  convent  with 
the  reverend  Mother  arranging  to  have  a  troop  of 
attendant  leprechauns  to  wait  on  the  Major's  niece 
when  she's  presenting  the  address." 

"  Who  wants  fairies  ?  Is  it  likely,  now,  that  Father 
McCormack  will  put  up  with  such  nonsense?  I  tell 
you  now,  Mr.  Meldon,  we'll  have  the  whole  country 
laughing  at  us.  Fairies,  is  it?  And  leprechauns! 
It's  enough  to  set  every  newspaper  making  jokes  and 
drawing  pictures  of  us.  We'll  never  hear  the  end 
of  it." 

"  Look  here ;  I'm  eating  my  dinner.  I'm  half-way 
through  one  chop,  and  there's  another  in  the  dish  in 
front  of  me.  I'll  talk  to  you  till  I  have  the  second 
one  eaten,  and  two  potatoes  along  with  it,  and  after 
that  out  you'll  go.  I  haven't  time  to  waste  over 
you." 

"You'll  talk.     I  wouldn't  doubt  you." 


ii8  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

"First  of  all,  then,  III  say  this.  I  know  a  jolly 
sight  better  than  you  or  Father  McCormack,  or  any- 
one else  in  Ballymoy,  how  Lord  Lieutenants  ought  to 
be  treated.  I  don't  suppose  you  ever  spoke  to  one 
in  your  life,  and  if  Father  McCormack  has  talked  to 
two  of  them,  it's  as  much  as  he's  done.  When  I  say 
that  fairies  are  the  proper  thing  you  may  take  it  that 
they  are.  You  set  up  to  be  president  or  vice-presi- 
dent of  half  a  dozen  different  leagues,  as  well  as  be- 
ing Chairman  of  the  Urban  District  Council  and  an 
ex-ofiitio  magistrate,  but  you're  an  utterly  uneducated 
man.  It's  just  as  well  for  you  to  realise  that  fact  at 
once.  You  don't  know  what's  going  on  in  Ireland 
outside  of  your  own  wretched  board-room.  As  it 
just  happens,  every  intellectual  man  in  the  country  at 
the  present  moment  is  simply  devoted  to  folk-lore  and 
popular  mythology  and  esoteric  mysticism  generally. 
You  probably  don't  know  what  those  sciences  are,  but 
I'll  tell  you.  They're  fairies,  pure  unmitigated 
fairies  —  which,  of  course,  includes  leprechauns  — 
and  nothing  else.  Very  well.  The  Lord  Lieutenant 
naturally  wants  to  associate  with  intellectual  men. 
That's  what  brings  him  to  Ireland.  He  knows  that 
there's  more  real  genius  in  Ireland  than  anywhere 
else.  You  have  the  usual  old-fashioned  notion  in 
your  head  that  Dublin  Castle  is  full  of  landlords  go- 
ing up  the  front  stairs,  priests  going  down  the  back 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  119 

stairs,  and  politicians  waiting  about  in  the  basement 
storey  expecting  to  be  made  into  County  Court 
judges.  That's  what  you  think;  and,  of  course, 
you're  perfectly  right  as  to  the  facts.  Where  you 
make  the  mistake  is  in  supposing  that  the  Lord  Lieu- 
tenant likes  that  kind  of  thing.  He  doesn't.  He 
puts  up  with  it  simply  because  he's  paid  to  put  up 
with  it.  In  reality  he  hates  the  whole  business.  The 
sight  of  a  landlord  turns  him  actually  sick,  and  he's 
so  fed  up  with  priests  and  politicians  that  he  wouldn't 
care  if  every  one  of  the  whole  crew  was  at  the  bot- 
tom of  the  sea  with  some  kind  of  a  floating  tomb- 
stone anchored  to  his  dead  body.  What  he  really 
wants  —  what  he  indulges  in  when  he  gets  away  by 
himself  to  a  quiet  place  where  nobody  sees  him  —  is 
poets  and  philosophers;  that  is  to  say,  the  men  who 
will  talk  to  him  freely  about  really  interesting  things 
—  fairies,  the  earth-spirit,  and  everything  else  of  that 
kind." 

At  this  point  Meldon  helped  himself  to  his  second 
potato  and  handed  the  bone  of  his  first  chop  to  Maher- 
Shalal-Hash-Baz.  Doyle,  a  little  bewildered,  waited 
in  silence  until  the  discourse  began  again. 

"  Now,  as  the  Lord  Lieutenant  drives  along  here 
in  his  motor-car,  what  do  you  suppose  he's  saying? 
You  don't  know ;  but  I'll  tell  you.  '  Smith/  he  says, 
or  'Jones,'  or  'Robinson,'  or  whatever  his  private 


lao  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

secretary's  name  is,  'who  shall  we  be  likely  to  meet 
to-day  at  Ballymoy  ? '  The  secretary  turns  up  his 
notebook  and  tells  His  Excellency  that  he'll  be  re- 
ceived by  Major  Kent,  Father  McCormack,  and  Mr. 
Doyle.  '  Do  you  hear  that,  my  dear  ? '  says  the  Lord 
Lieutenant  to  the  marchioness ;  '  the  same  old  lot  —  a 
landlord,  a  priest,  and  a  politician.  We'll  be  bored 
to  tears  as  usual.'  '  It  can't  be  helped,'  says  the  lady. 
'After  all,  we're  earning  our  living  by  it.  The  sal- 
ary's not  bad,  and  the  Viceregal  Lodge  is  a  pleasant 
place  enough  when  we  get  it  to  ourselves.'  'That's 
all  very  well,'  says  he.  '  I'm  not  shirking  my  duty, 
and  I  don't  intend  to;  but  in  a  country  like  Ireland, 
full  of  romantic  possibilities,  with  the  Celtic  glamour 
oozing  out  of  every  bog  in  it,  and  the  most  fascinating 
folk-lore  in  the  world  running  to  absolute  waste,  why 
can't  the  people  get  up  something  in  the  way  of  a 
pageant?  If  there  was  a  man  with  a  spark  of  orig- 
inality about  him  in  Ballymoy,  he'd  have  us  met  at 
the  door  of  Mr.  Doyle's  Hotel  —  the  Imperial,  it's 
called  —  by  a  procession  of  fairies.'  That  is  the  sub- 
stance of  the  conversation  which  will  be  going  on  in 
the  Viceregal  motor-car  as  it  drives  along  the  road 
towards  Ballymoy.  You  see  my  point,  don't  you? 
You  understand  now  why  I'm  running  the  Major's 
niece  as  a  fairy.  You'll  find  that  you'll  get  more 
money  out  of  their  excellencies  for  ameliorating  the 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  121 

lot  of  the  Ballymoy  child  if  you  follow  my  advice  and 
have  a  proper  troop  of  fairies  to  meet  them.  Just 
you  toddle  off  and  explain  the  matter  to  Father  Mc- 
Cormack  and  the  reverend  Mother.  Get  the  thing 
done.  Mrs.  Gregg  will  design  the  dresses  for  you, 
and  you  may  take  my  word  for  it  you  won't  be  sorry 
afterwards." 

Doyle  allowed  himself  to  be  hustled  from  the  room. 
He  was  not  in  the  least  convinced  of  the  suitability  of 
the  demonstration  which  Meldon  proposed.  He  felt 
as  strongly  as  ever  the  absurdity  of  setting  up  a  little 
girl  in  a  muslin  frock  and  tinselled  wings  to  receive 
the  representative  of  the  British  Sovereign  at  the  door 
of  a  public-house.  But  previous  experience  had  con- 
vinced him  that  there  was  nothing  to  be  gained  by 
opposing  any  plan  which  Meldon  was  determined 
to  [carry  out.  He  foresaw  that  unless  he  gave  way 
at  once  his  life  for  the  next  few  days  would  be  made 
unbearable  by  the  continuous  flow  of  Meldon's  argu- 
ments. The  peace  of  Father  McCormack's  presby- 
tery would  be  disturbed.  Even  the  sanctuary  of  the 
convent  might  be  invaded ;  and  in  the  end,  after  all 
tempers  had  been  worn  thin  by  opposition,  there 
would  be  a  troop  of  fairies  headed  by  the  Major's 
niece  waiting  for  the  Lord  Lieutenant.  Doyle  had 
known  Meldon  for  two  years,  and  he  had  no  doubts 
at  all  about  the  ultimate  issue  of  the  matter. 


122  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

Nor  had  Meldon  himself. 

"  It's  rather  a  nuisance,"  he  murmured,  when  Doyle 
had  left  him.  "  I  wish  Marjorie  hadn't  set  her  heart 
on  dressing  up  as  a  fairy.  However,  that  can't 
be  helped  now.  The  poor  little  thing  is  having  a  dull 
time  of  it  out  at  Portsmouth  Lodge,  and  I'm  bound 
to  see  that  she  gets  any  little  pleasure  she  happens 
to  fancy." 

There  was  a  tap  at  the  door  and  Major  Kent  en- 
tered. Meldon,  who  was  filling  his  pipe,  laid  it  on 
the  floor  and  stood  up. 

"Nothing  wrong  with  Marjorie,  I  hope?" 

"  No,"  said  the  Major.  "  So  far  as  I  know  she's 
all  right.  I  told  Mrs.  O'Halloran  to  give  her  her 
dinner  at  half-past  one,  and  then  to  turn  her  loose 
for  the  afternoon  with  Paudeen  and  the  bicycle.  I 
came  into  town  to  wire  to  Dublin  for  a  governess.  I 
told  you  I  was  going  to,  and  I'm  glad  now  that  I 
have." 

"All  right,'*  said  Meldon.  "You'll  be  sorry  after- 
wards, but  you  will  have  your  own  way.  In  all  prob- 
ability the  governess  will  marry  you  before  you  get 
her  out  of  the  house." 

"  I  can't  help  it  if  she  does,"  said  the  Major.  "  I 
must  have  her.  I've  got  another  letter  from  Mar- 
garet. It  was  given  me  in  the  post-office  just  after 
I'd  sent  off  the  wire,  and  it  made  me  feel  glad  I'd 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  123 

done  it,  whatever  the  (consequences  to  myself  may  be." 

He  drew  a  bulky  package  from  his  pocket. 

"  That  seems  a  longish  letter,"  said  Meldon. 

"  It's  not  all  letter.  In  fact,  the  letter  itself  is  very 
short.  The  rest  of  the  parcel  is  pamphlets  and  mag- 
azines, and  directions  for  use.  I  haven't  read  them, 
of  course,  but  that's  what  they  look  like.  I  thought 
perhaps  you'd  run  your  eye  over  them  with  me." 

"  Certainly.     It'll  be  a  pleasure." 

"  Perhaps  I'd  better  tell  you  what  is  in  the  letter 
before  you  read  the  papers.  It's  very  short.  Mar- 
garet says  she  forgot  to  mention  that  she  is  a  mem- 
ber of  the  Parents'  Union,  and  that  she  hopes  I'll 
carry  on  Margaret's  education  according  to  the  sys- 
tem outlined  in  the  enclosed  papers." 

"That's  all  right,"  said  Meldon.  "I  needn't  read 
them.  I  understand  the  system  perfectly.  I  made  a 
special  study  of  it  at  one  time.  You  needn't  have 
bothered  getting  a  governess  for  that.  You'll  be  able 
to  work  it  quite  well  yourself.  Any  intelligent  and 
moderately  well-informed  person  could." 

"  I'll  get  the  governess  all  the  same." 

"  It's  ten  to  one  if  you  happen  upon  one  who  under- 
stands this  system.  Simple  as  the  thing  is,  very  few 
regular  governesses  do.  They  pretend  they  don't 
anyhow.  Professional  jealousy,  you  know.  Where 
did  you  wire  to  ?  " 


i24  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

"  To  '  O.  G.  Box  241,  Office  of  the  Irish  Times,'" 
said  the  Major.  "  She  had  an  advertisement  in  yes- 
terday's paper,  and  I  thought  she'd  suit." 

Meldon  collected  the  fragments  of  the  paper  which 
lay  scattered  about  the  room,  and  found  the  advertise- 
ment column  headed  "  Tuition,  &c."  He  ran  his  eye 
down  it. 

"  *  Wanted  holiday  engagement/  "  he  read,  " '  by  a 
young  lady  employed  in  a  high-class  school.  Satis- 
factory references  offered.  Address  O.  G.  Box  241, 
this  Office.'  That's  your  damsel,  I  suppose." 

"That's  her.  She  sounds  all  right,  doesn't 
she?" 

"I  suppose  when  you  were  wiring  you  said, 
'Knowledge  of  the  Parents'  Union  system  of  educa- 
tion essential,'  and  'Nature  study  a  sine  qua  non'f 
Nature  study  is  one  of  the  most  characteristic  fea- 
tures of  the  system." 

"No,  I  didn't.  I  didn't  get  Margaret's  letter  till 
after  I'd  sent  the  wire." 

"  Oh,  well,  never  mind.  I'll  explain  it  to  her  when 
she  arrives.  But  keeping  a  governess  won't  get  you 
off  your  share  of  the  work.  That's  another  of  the 
features  of  the  system." 

"  I  can't  do  it." 

"Oh,  yes,  you  can.  The  great  idea  is  this.  Al- 
ways impart  instruction  to  the  child  under  your 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  125 

feharge,  whether  she's  supposed  to  be  learning  lessons 
or  not.  For  instance,  we'll  say  that  you  and  Mar- 
jorie  are  out  for  a  walk  together  and  you  meet  a 
snail.  Marjorie  naturally  picks  up  the  snail.  Un- 
der the  old  system  of  education  it  would  have  been 
your  duty  to  tell  her  to  drop  the  snail  at  once.  *  Lit- 
tle girls,'  you  would  have  said,  'ought  not  to  play 
with  snails.'  But  that  way  of  dealing  with  children 
is  quite  out  of  date.  As  a  member  of  the  Parents' 
Union,  you  encourage  Marjorie  to  examine  the  snail. 
You  tell  her  to  poke  her  little  finger  into  the  shell 
and  find  out  what's  there." 

"  She'd  do  that  in  any  case." 

"Not  if  you  told  her  to  drop  the  snail.  She'd 
drop  it.  Next,  you  stick  the  lighted  end  of  your 
cigar  against  the  snail's  shell  so  as  to  make  it  poke 
out  its  head.  Then  in  every  way  you  can  think  of  at 
the  moment  you  make  the  snail  show  its  points  and 
trot  about  —  just  as  if  it  was  a  horse  that  Marjorie 
was  thinking  of  buying  from  you." 

"  I  don't  quite  see,"  said  the  Major,  "  where  the 
education  comes  in." 

"  Of  course,  all  the  time  Marjorie  is  fiddling  with 
the  snail  you  are  explaining  the  nature  of  the  crea- 
ture and  its  uses  in  simple  language.  You  tell  her 
that  the  French  eat  snails,  but  that  she,  not  being 
French,  doesn't.  You  mention  that  the  slug,  though 


126  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

very  like  the  snail  in  flabby  sliminess,  differs  from  it 
in  not  having  a  shell." 

"  She'd  know  that  without  my  telling  her." 

"  She  would,  of  course,  but  she'd  be  much  too  po- 
lite to  tell  you  so.  She'd  recognise  that  you  were  do- 
ing your  duty  towards  her,  and  she'd  respect  you  for 
it.  She'd  pretend  to  be  frightfully  interested  in  what 
you  were  saying,  and  when  you  went  on  to  tell  her 
the  story  about  the  snail  which  raced  with  the  tor- 
toise she'd  give  you  to  understand  she'd  never  heard 
it  before." 

"Was  it  a  snail  which  ran  the  race  with  the  tor- 
toise? I  always  thought  it  was  a  hare." 

"  It  was  a  hare  in  the  original,  and,  of  course,  if 
it  happened  to  be  a  hare  which  Marjorie  picked  up 
you'd  have  told  the  story  in  what  I  may  call  the 
authorised  version.  But  as  you  are  on  the  subject 
of  snails,  and  not  hares,  you  have  to  adapt  the  narra- 
tive to  your  circumstances." 

"Well?" 

"After  you've  told  her  all  you  know  about  the 
snail,  you  go  on  walking  until  you  meet  something 
else.  Then  you  start  on  it.  It's  a  magnificent  sys- 
tem. No  walk  is  ever  the  least  dull,  and  Marjorie  is 
learning  the  whole  time  without  knowing  it." 

"It  seems  to  me,"  said  the  Major,  "that  we'd  be 
a  long  time  getting  anywhere." 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  127 

"  You  would,  of  course.  In  fact,  if  you  do  the 
thing  properly,  you'll  never  get  more  than  a  few  yards 
away  from  your  hall-door  before  it's  time  to  go  home 
again.  But  if  you  really  want  to  get  anywhere,  you 
either  have  to  stop  being  a  member  of  the  Parents' 
Union  for  the  time,  or  else  not  take  Marjorie  with 
you." 

"  I'm  not  sure  that  I  think  much  of  that  system  of 
education,  J.  J." 

"  Well,  nor  do  I.  It  bores  the  parents  a  lot,  and 
it  must  be  perfectly  maddening  for  the  child.  You 
can't  wonder  that  the  ordinary  governess,  who  has 
been  brought  up  herself  on  Butter's  spelling  and  the 
dates  of  the  Kings  of  England,  rather  despises  it. 
The  child  hardly  ever  meets  a  king  out  walking,  and 
so  gets  no  instruction  on  royal  families.  I  don't  my- 
self set  an  excessively  high  value  on  kings.  I'm  not 
a  fanatic  on  the  subject.  I  believe  a  man  might  be 
a  good  man  enough  for  all  practical  purposes  without 
knowing  the  date  of  George  I.  Still,  kings  have 
their  place  in  any  proper  education,  and  I  must  say 
I  think  the  Parents'  Union,  with  that  hand-to-mouth 
system  of  theirs,  undervalues  kings." 

"  Marjorie,"  said  the  Major,  with  a  grin,  "  will 
have  the  advantage  of  meeting  a  Lord  Lieutenant." 

"  Yes.  That's  the  very  next  thing  there  is  to  a 
king.  In  fact,  for  educational  purposes  he  is  in  some 


128  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

ways  better  than  a  real  king.  He  is  sure  to  be  af- 
fable, being  selected  for  his  office  principally  for  that 
reason ;  whereas  a  king  who  comes  into  his  job  merely 
by  being  born  to  it,  may  be  as  cross  as  a  bear." 

"I  hope,"  said  the  Major,  "that  you'll  take  the 
opportunity  o{  this  Lord  Lieutenant's  visit  to  give 
Marjorie  a  lesson  on  kings,  in  the  sort  of  way  you 
have  just  been  explaining  to  me.  I'm  sure  you'd  do 
it  well." 

Meldon  treated  this  suggestion,  which  was  meant 
for  a  sarcasm,  with  contempt. 

"When  does  Miss  O.  G.  arrive?"  he  asked. 

"  I  told  her  in  my  wire  to  come  as  soon  as  possible. 
I  practically  offered  her  her  own  terms  and  took  her 
word  for  it  that  the  references  were  all  right." 


CHAPTER  XI 

MARJORIE  ate  her  dinner  under  the  eyes  of 
Mrs.  O'Halloran  and  Mary  Garry  untrou- 
bled by  any  advice  as  to  how  she  ought  to  chew.  At 
her  own  special  request  she  was  allowed  to  have  the 
meal  in  the  kitchen.  This  would  probably  have 
shocked  any  right-minded  member  of  the  Parents' 
Union,  but  Mrs.  O'Halloran  knew  nothing  of  the 
later  theories  of  education,  and,  having  successfully 
reared  six  children  of  her  own,  had  no  idea  whatever 
of  the  sacred  responsibility  of  those  in  charge  of  the 
young.  She  even  allowed  Marjorie  to  choose  her 
own  food.  Major  Kent,  who  had  some  ideas  of  his 
own  on  the  subject  of  nursery  diet,  ordered  a  chicken, 
boiled,  and  a  rice-pudding.  When  he  was  told  that 
no  chicken  was  available  he  left  the  arrangement  of 
the  menu  to  Mrs.  O'Halloran,  stating  at  the  same 
time  that  he  would  not  himself  be  at  home  for  lunch- 
eon. Mary  Garry,  after  consultation  with  Mrs. 
O'Halloran,  asked  Marjorie  what  she  would  like. 
She  chose  sardines  on  toast,  to  be  followed  by 
whipped  pream  and  raspberry- jam.  There  were  no 
sardines  in  the  house,  so  Paudeen  Canavan  was  sent 
into  Ballymoy  with  orders  to  get  a  box  at  Mr.  Doyle's 
129 


130  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

shop  and  bring  it  home  in  his  pocket.  This  errand 
was  the  cause  of  an  argument  between  Mrs.  O'Hal- 
loran  and  Jamesy  Deveril.  Paudeen,  who  was  called 
a  yard  boy,  though  his  duties  in  the  Major's  estab- 
lishment were  very  varied,  was  supposed  to  be  under 
the  control  of  Jamesy  Deveril. 

Jamesy  had  been  at  the  forge,  getting  new  shoes  for 
the  cob,  on  the  previous  day,  while  Paudeen  was 
helping  to  course  the  black  calf  and  to  bridle  the 
chestnut  filly.  On  discovering  what  had  been  done 
in  his  absence  he  had  beaten  Paudeen  severely,  hit- 
ting much  harder,  and  finding  the  tenderest  spots 
more  skilfully  than  Mr.  Gregg.  He  intended  to 
make  life  very  bitter  and  irksome  to  Paudeen  for 
sevieral  days  afterwards,  and  was  annoyed  at  the 
boy's  escaping  to  go  on  a  message  into  Ballymoy. 

"  He'll  be  spending  the  whole  of  the  morning  at 
it,"  he  said  bitterly  to  Mrs.  O'Halloran,  "  and  me 
wanting  him  to  be  shifting  dung  in  the  barrow. 
Why  couldn't  you  send  Mary  Garry  if  there's  com- 
mands to  be  done  in  the  town  ?  What  good  is  a  great 
stravaguing  lump  of  a  girl  like  her  about  the  place  if 
she's  not  fit  to  be  sent  into  the  town  on  a  message  ?  " 

"Is  it  Mary  Garry?"  said  Mrs.  O'Halloran. 
"And  if  I  send  her,  who's  to  brush  the  Major's 
clothes  for  him,  and  clean  up  after  the  mess  the  com- 
pany made  in  the  drawing-room  yesterday,  and  wash 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  131 

two  pair  of  stockings  for  Miss  Marjorie,  and  shell 
the  peas  for  the  dinner  to-night,  and  answer  the  door 
and  polish  the  silver  teapot,  and  iron  out  one  of  them 
aprons  —  aprons  indeed!  no,  but  pinafores!  —  that 
Meldon,  bad  luck  to  him,  fetched  out  for  the  poor 
girl  to  wear?  Tell  me  that  now,  Mr.  Jamesy  Dev- 
eril." 

Jamesy  was  a  reasonable  man.  He  was  forced  to 
acknowledge  that  Mary  Garry's  duties  were  more 
varied  than  those  he  had  planned  for  Paudeen. 
Mrs.  O'Halloran  pursued  her  advantage. 

"  So  you  may  leave  the  dung  where  it  is  for  an- 
other day,  for  you'll  not  get  Paudeen  in  the  evening 
no  more  than  the  morning.  As  soon  as  ever  he  has 
his  dinner  ate,  he's  to  be  out  on  the  road  teaching 
Miss  Marjorie  to  ride  the  bicycle." 

"  I'd  have  thought  she'd  have  had  riding  enough 
to  content  her  yesterday  without  wanting  bicycles 
after.  What  would  hinder  her  to  sit  quiet  in  the 
house  and  let  Paudeen  do  his  work?" 

"  Them's  the  Major's  orders  anyway ;  and  if  you 
don't  like  them  it's  to  the  Major  you'd  better  be 
speaking." 

"Well,  but  childer  is  an  upset  in  a  house.  Divil 
the  thing  can  be  got  done  right  the  way  it  ought  to  be 
done  when  there's  the  like  of  them  to  be  humoured." 

"  You  may  say  that,"  said  Mrs.  O'Halloran.    "  I'm 


132  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

after  rearing  six  of  my  own,  and  I  know  well  that 
there's  neither  ease  nor  comfort  where  they  are." 

Thus  Paudeen  escaped  a  task  which  in  the  bruised 
condition  of  his  body  would  have  been  a  painful  one 
for  him,  and  spent  a  pleasant  morning  sauntering 
along  the  road  between  Ballymoy  and  Portsmouth 
Lodge.  In  the  afternoon  he  was  forced  to  bestir 
himself  more  actively.  Marjorie  rapidly  acquired 
such  mastery  of  the  bicycle  as  enabled  her  to  make 
short  and  erratic  rushes  at  high  speed.  Steering 
proved  a  great  difficulty,  and  the  ditches  at  the  sides 
of  the  road  seemed  to  have  a  strong  attraction  to  the 
machine.  It  was  Paudeen's  duty  to  prevent  any 
kind  of  catastrophe.  The  afternoon  was  hot,  and 
the  work  was  much  harder  for  him  than  it  was  for 
Marjorie.  There  were  moments  when  he  wished 
himself  back  in  the  yard  under  the  eye  of  Jamesy 
Deveril.  The  demands  on  his  activity  there  were  in- 
termittent. Jamesy,  having  duties  of  his  own,  could 
not  always  watch  his  subordinate.  When  he  was  at 
work  elsewhere  it  was  Paudeen's  habit  to  rest,  sit- 
ting on  the  handles  of  the  barrow  or  on  any  con- 
venient stone.  Marjorie  allowed  him  no  breathing- 
time.  No  sooner  had  he  saved  her  from  a  crash 
which  seemed  inevitable  than  she  was  off  again,  and 
Paudeen  was  obliged  —  so  he  described  his  experi- 
ence to  Mary  Garry  at  tea-time  — "  to  make  after  her 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  133 

if  it  was  the  last  breath  I  could  squeeze  out  of  my 
body." 

But  of  the  joy  of  learning  to  ride  a  bicycle  there 
comes  satiety  at  last,  even  when  the  learner  is  an 
active  child  of  ten  years  old.  Marjorie  dismounted, 
breathless  and  dishevelled,  and  addressed  the  perspir- 
ing Paudeen. 

"  I'm  tired  of  the  old  bike,"  she  said ;  "  let's  go 
and  explore  somewhere." 

Paudeen  was  uncertain  as  to  the  exact  meaning  of 
the  proposal,  but  he  had  a  strong  suspicion,  based  on 
the  experience  of  the  day  before,  that  any  plan  made 
by  Miss  Marjorie  would  be  likely  to  end  in  trouble 
for  him. 

"  I'd  be  afeard,"  he  said.     "  I  might  be  bet." 

"  Mr.  Gregg  isn't  here,"  said  Marjorie.  "  There's 
nobody  to  beat  you.  You're  not  afraid  of  Mrs. 
O'Halloran,  are  you?  or  Mary  Garry?" 

"  Mary  Garry  dursent,"  he  said ;  "  and  what's  more, 
she  wouldn't  be  fit." 

He  was  prepared  to  assert  the  dignity  of  his  sex 
against  her  at  any  time.  With  regard  to  Mrs.  O'Hal- 
loran he  was  less  confident.  He  recollected  certain 
shrewd  blows  given  with  rolling-pins  or  other  weap- 
ons, and  the  arm  of  Mrs.  O'Halloran  was  strong. 
But  he  would  not  humble  himself  before  Miss  Mar- 
jorie by  admitting  that  he  feared  any  woman. 


134  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

"  Mr.  Deveril'd  beat  me,"  he  said. 

Marjorie  tossed  her  head.  She  refused  to  ac- 
knowledge that  Mr.  Deveril  had  any  right  to  control 
her  actions.  It  did  not  occur  to  her  that  he  might 
possess  the  power  of  life  and  death  over  Paudeen. 

"  Come  on,"  she  said ;  "  we'll  go  down  to  the  sea." 

Paudeen  yielded,  foolishly.  He  might  have  known 
—  the  story  of  his  remotest  ancestor's  first  transgres- 
sion should  have  warned  him  —  that  he  would  not  be 
able  to  evade  punishment  afterwards  by  saying  "  The 
woman  tempted  me."  The  blame  might  be,  would 
be,  justly  and  properly  hers  alone,  but  no  man  from 
the  days  of  Adam  down  has  escaped  the  consequences 
of  evil-doing  by  urging  that  plea. 

"You  take  the  bike  into  the  yard,"  said  Marjorie, 
"  and  leave  it  there.  I'll  wait  for  you." 

"  She'd  see  me,"  said  Paudeen,  "  and  Mr.  Deveril 
would  see  me,  and  then  I'd  be  bet,  the  way  I  was 
bet  yesterday,  only  worse." 

"You're  a  little  coward.  I'll  take  it  myself,  and 
you  can  wait. 

The  taunt  was  too  much  for  Paudeen.  He  was 
prepared  to  run  a  very  considerable  risk  rather  than 
suffer  it.  He  took  the  bicycle  and  wheeled  it  up  the 
drive  towards  Portsmouth  Lodge,  but  courage,  even 
taunt-driven,  has  its  limits.  He  stopped  short  at  a 
place  out  of  sight  of  the  kitchen  windows,  and  de- 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  135 

posited  the  bicycle  under  a  tree.  Then  he  returned 
to  Marjorie.  They  crossed  two  fields  hand  in  hand, 
and  arrived  at  the  shore  of  the  little  bay  in  which 
Major  Kent's  Spindrift  lay  at  anchor.  If  Paudeen 
had  been  a  member  of  the  Parents'  Union,  and  there- 
fore anxious  to  increase  Marjorie's  interest  in  nature- 
study,  the  sandy  shore  of  the  bay  would  have  offered 
him  a  splendid  opportunity.  It  was  strewn  with  the 
corpses  of  jelly-fish,  and  Marjorie's  curiosity  was  im- 
mediately aroused.  She  had  never  before  come  across 
jelly-fish,  and  she  wanted  to  know  all  about  them. 
Unfortunately  Paudeen  had  been  brought  up  on  a 
bog  many  miles  from  the  sea,  and  marine  biology 
has  not  as  yet  been  imposed  on  Irish  National 
schools  as  part  of  the  regular  programme  of 
instruction.  He  had  but  one  piece  of  information  to 
offer. 

"  Them  ones  stings,"  he  said. 

Marjorie  only  half  believed  him.  She  urged  him 
to  take  one  up  in  his  hand  and  demonstrate  that  it 
did  sting.  Paudeen  was  most  unwilling  to  make  the 
experiment.  He  would  have  waded  through  a  bed 
of  nettles  bare-legged;  he  would  have  faced  the  dan- 
gers of  attacking  a  wasps'  nest;  but  a  jelly-fish  was 
an  unknown  creature,  and  its  sting  might  easily  be 
worse  than  anything  he  had  ever  experienced.  He 
hesitated. 


136  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

"  You're  a  little  coward,"  said  Marjorie  for  the 
second  time.  Then  she  took  up  one  of  the  jelly-fish 
very  cautiously  in  her  own  hand. 

"  Mind  it,  Miss,"  said  Paudeen,  in  an  agony  of  ap- 
prehension. "  Arrah,  leave  go  of  it !  Sure,  the  bites 
of  them  is  terrible." 

Either  because  it  was  dead,  or  because  it  was  not 
a  venomous  kind  of  jelly-fish,  it  lay  passive  and  harm- 
less in  Marjorie's  hand.  She  prodded  it  with  her 
finger,  squeezed  it,  rolled  it  into  a  ball,  submitted  it 
to  every  kind  of  indignity  possible  to  a  jelly-fish,  and 
yet  it  did  not  sting.  Finally,  with  a  gesture  of  con- 
tempt, she  flung  it  at  Paudeen.  It  occurred  to  him  as 
possible  that,  though  the  jelly-fish  abstained  from  of- 
fering any  kind  of  violence  to  a  young  lady  like  Miss 
Marjorie,  it  still  might  sting  him.  Yet  he  would  not 
admit  himself  the  inferior  in  daring  of  a  girl  several 
years  younger  than  he  was.  With  a  show  of  careless 
boldness  he  too  picked  up  a  jelly-fish,  examined  it, 
and  flung  it  into  the  sea.  Marjorie  took  another  and 
threw  it  at  him ;  then  another,  and  another  after  that 
Soon  she  was  pelting  him  with  jelly-fish.  Coming 
quite  close  to  him  she  blobbed  the  creatures  into  his 
face.  Paudeen  loathed  the  feel  of  them ;  yet,  so  great 
was  his  instinctive  chivalry  and  respect  for  the  Ma- 
jor's niece,  he  flung  no  jelly-flsh  at  her.  Only,  lest 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  137 

the  game  should  lose  its  delight  through  being  alto- 
gether one-sided,  he  too  gathered  jelly-fish  and  threw 
them  over  and  past  Miss  Marjorie. 

At  last  the  sport  palled.  The  remaining  jelly-fish 
were  left  to  perish  in  peace,  and  for  a  delightful  half- 
hour  Marjorie  and  Paudeen  launched  empty  limpet- 
shells  in  the  sea.  Every  single  shell  was  swamped 
immediately.  Even  when  Paudeen  heroically  waded 
out  up  to  his  knees  to  get  beyond  the  broken  water 
of  the  wavelets  no  limpet-shell  survived  afloat  for 
more  than  a  single  instant.  He  got  very  wet  —  much 
wetter  than  Marjorie,  because  once  in  a  moment  of 
ecstasy  he  stepped  quickly  backward  and  sat  down 
in  shallow  water.  What  view  the  managing  commit- 
tee of  the  Parents'  Union  would  have  taken  of  the 
condition  of  Marjorie's  shoes  and  stockings  it  is  im- 
possible to  say,  but  no  doubt  an  enthusiast  might 
have  seized  the  opportunity  of  giving  a  profitable  ex- 
position of  the  laws  which  govern  the  buoyancy  of 
limpet-shells. 

Further  adventures  became  necessary  after  some 
hundreds  of  limpet-shells  had  been  launched  and 
swamped. 

"  Is  there,"  said  Marjorie,  "  a  cave  anywhere  about 
—  a  smuggler's  cave  ?  " 

"I  never  heard  tell  of  the  like,"  said  Paudeen, 


138  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

"  though  I  wouldn't  say  but  what  there  might.  They 
do  say  there  was  Fenians  and  such  in  it  the  time  of 
the  Land  League." 

"  Then  let's  look  for  their  cave.  We'll  go  on  look- 
ing till  we  find  it,  and  then  we'll  play  at  being  smug- 
glers and  Fenians." 

They  found  no  cave,  but  in  the  course  of  their 
search  they  came  upon  the  Major's  punt.  The  oars 
had  been  carried  up  to  the  coach-house,  but  by  lift- 
ing the  floor-boards  they  provided  themselves  with  all 
they  required  for  a  voyage  on  dry  land.  Paudeen, 
convinced  that  he  had  now  earned  a  beating  so  se- 
vere that  no  further  iniquity  could  make  it  any  worse, 
flung  himself  with  ardour  into  the  new  game.  Act- 
ing under  Marjorie's  orders,  he  rowed,  spread  sails, 
pulled  ropes,  fired  guns,  captured  after  a  desperate 
conflict  a  pirate  craft,  and  finally  accomplished  a 
shipwreck  on  a  desert  island.  In  the  course  of  these 
manoeuvres  it  was  discovered  that  the  punt,  which  lay 
heeled  on  one  side,  could  by  violent  and  combined 
exertion,  be  made  to  rock  over  and  lie  on  her  other 
side.  Some  instinct  warned  Paudeen  that  this  rock- 
ing was  far  from  beneficial  to  the  punt.  He  under- 
stood nothing  about  boats,  but  his  experience  of  life 
had  taught  him  that  anything  which  is  rapturously 
pleasant  to  do  is  extremely  injurious  to  the  thing  it 
is  done  to.  Nothing  could  have  been  pleasanter,  for 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  139 

instance,  than  coursing  the  black  polled-Angus  calf 
round  the  tennis-court.  It  therefore  turned  out  after- 
wards that  the  game  was  harmful  both  to  the  calf 
and  the  lawn.  He  knew  in  his  heart  that  it  could  not 
be  right  to  leap  from  one  side  of  the  punt  to  the 
other,  and  bear  her  down  with  a  bump  upon  the 
stones  which  strewed  the  upper  part  of  the  beach. 
His  conscience  made  a  last  effort  to  assert  itself. 

"  We'll  be  bet,"  he  said,  "  the  both  of  us,  for  sure." . 

He  included  Marjorie  in  the  prophecy,  not  because 
he  really  believed  that  Mrs.  O'Halloran,  Mr.  Gregg, 
the  Major,  or  even  Jamesy  Deveril  himself  would 
dare  to  take  a  stick  to  her,  but  because  he  hoped  to 
induce  her  to  stop  rocking  the  punt.  He  failed. 
Marjorie  continued,  and  commanded  him  to  continue, 
leaping  from  side  to  side  of  the  boat  and  swaying  her 
over,  until  the  novelty  of  the  thing  completely  wore 
off.  Then  she  proposed  that  they  should  launch  the 
punt  and  voyage  in  her  to  the  Spindrift.  Paudeen 
made  but  a  feeble  protest. 

"We'll  be  drownded,"  he  said,  "if  we  do,  for  the 
water  is  terrible  strong,  and  there  was  a  man 
drownded  in  it  one  time,  and  it  wasn't  for  a  week 
after  that  they  found  him." 

He  did  not  really  fear  drowning.  It  is  said  to  be 
an  easy  and  pleasant  death,  and  life,  after  the  after- 
noon's adventures,  was  likely  to  be  hard  for  Paudeen. 


i4o  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

He  and  Mar j one  seized  the  punt,  and,  after  immense 
toil,  succeeded  in  dragging  her  several  yards  down 
the  beach  towards  the  sea.  The  success  of  their  en- 
terprise seemed  assured.  They  would,  no  doubt, 
have  actually  launched  the  boat  if  they  had  not  been 
interrupted.  The  sound  of  the  Major's  dinner-gong, 
beaten  vigorously,  startled  them.  They  stopped  tug- 
ging at  the  punt,  and  looked  behind  them.  Far  off, 
a  solitary  figure,  silhouetted  on  the  sky-line  against 
the  setting  sun,  stood  Mary  Garry  with  the  gong  in 
her  hands.  She  had  climbed  the  hill  behind  Ports- 
mouth Lodge,  and  was  sounding  a  clamorous  sum- 
mons. 

"  Run,"  said  Paudeen  — "  run  as  if  the  divil  was 
after  you  and  Meldon's  white  dog  along  with  him." 

Marjorie  knew  little  of  the  devil,  and  had  no  fear 
whatever  of  the  dog;  but  she  recognised  the  wisdom 
of  the  advice.  Paudeen  grasped  her  hand,  and  they 
fled  together  across  the  fields.  Reaching  the  road, 
they  felt  it  wise  to  proceed  more  cautiously.  They 
crept  along  the  ditch.  Paudeen's  idea  was  to  get  the 
bicycle,  if  possible,  before  they  were  seen.  Once  in 
possession  of  it,  they  might  assume  an  air  of  con- 
scious rectitude  and  leave  the  authorities  to  infer 
that  the  whole  afternoon  had  been  innocently  spent 
in  learning  to  ride.  He  explained  his  plan  to  Mar- 
jorie as  they  crawled  along  the  ditch. 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  141 

"  Mary  Garry'll  not  tell  on  us,"  he  said,  "  if  so  be 
she  saw  us,  and  she  might  not." 

"  I  don't  care  if  she  does,"  said  Marjorie. 

Her  spirit,  the  first  nerve-shattering  alarm  once 
passed,  revived  in  her.  Shaking  off  Paudeen's  re- 
straining hand,  she  stepped  boldly  out  of  the  ditch. 
She  found  herself  face  to  face  with  Mrs.  O'Halloran. 

"  Your  tea's  ready  for  you,  Miss  Marjorie,  and 
Mary  Garry  has  the  face  near  beat  off  the  Major's 
drum  trying  to  discover  where  you'd  got  to.  Is  that 
(you  in  the  ditch,  Paudeen  Canavan?  It's  another 
skelping  you  want,  and,  what's  more,  it's  another 
you'll  get  if  I  tell  Jamesy  Deveril  on  you.  What 
would  ail  you  that  you  wouldn't  bring  the  young  lady 
in  to  her  tea,  and  you  knowing  well  it  was  ready  for 
her?" 

It  seemed  to  Paudeen  possible  that  after  all  he  might 
escape  the  punishment  which  a  few  minutes  before 
was  all  but  inevitable.  Miss  Marjorie  had  Mrs. 
O'Halloran  by  the  hand,  and  was  evidently  giving  to 
the  housekeeper's  questions  those  soft  answers  which 
turn  away  wrath.  Paudeen  found  the  bicycle  under 
the  tree,  and,  with  a  care  that  was  almost  reverent, 
wheeled  it  into  its  place  in  the  coach-house. 


CHAPTER  XII 

AFTER  tea  Mary  Garry,  supervised  in  the  work 
by  Mrs.  O'Halloran,  dried  Mar j one,  changed 
her  frock,  tied  up  her  hair  with  a  blue  ribbon,  and 
then  led  her  to  the  door  of  her  uncle's  study.  The 
Major  had  given  orders  that  his  niece  should  be 
handed  over  to  him  between  the  hours  of  six  and 
seven.  Both  Mrs.  Ford  and  Mrs.  Cosgrave,  who 
were  separately  consulted,  said  that  all  parents  and 
those  who  for  any  reason  found  themselves  in  the 
position  of  parents,  devoted  that  particular  hour  of 
the  day  to  their  children.  At  all  other  times,  so  the 
Major  gathered  from  the  two  ladies,  an  uncle  might 
neglect  his  niece  and  be  held  blameless ;  but  from  six 
o'clock  until  seven  he  must  personally  attend  to  her 
wants. 

Major  Kent's  conscience  glowed  with  a  warm  ap- 
proval most  comfortable  to  feel  when  Mary  Garry 
opened  the  study  door  and  let  in  Marjorie.  Every 
other  part  of  him  except  his  conscience  was  uncom- 
fortable and  embarrassed.  He  had  no  experience  of 
little  girls  nor  the  slightest  idea  of  what  he  ought  to 
talk  about.  He  had  some  thought  at  first  of  sending 
Mary  Garry  out  to  find  a  snail,  and  repeating,  as 
142 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  143 

well  as  he  could,  the  model  lesson  given  him  in  the 
morning  by  Meldon;  but  he  rather  feared  the  com- 
ments which  Mrs.  O'Halloran  would  make  on  snails 
as  playthings,  and  doubted  whether  he  could  explain 
to  her  the  advantages  of  nature-study. 

Marjorie  was  perfectly  self-possessed.  She  made 
a  tour  of  the  study,  examining  minutely  all  the  ob- 
jects which  interested  her.  She  discovered  a  hookah, 
which  stood  by  itself  on  a  small  table  in  a  corner  of 
the  room.  The  Major  found  the  Parents'  Union 
method  of  imparting  instruction  easier  than  he  ex- 
pected. He  told  all  there  was  to  tell  about  the 
hookah.  He  got  into  difficulties  in  the  end  when  Mar- 
jorie demanded  to  have  the  thing  filled,  lit,  and 
smoked.  She  proposed  to  sit  opposite  her  uncle  and 
make  use  of  one  of  the  two  tubes  with  which  the 
hookah  was  furnished.  The  Major,  so  she  planned 
the  entertainment,  was  to  smoke  through  the  other, 
sitting  cross-legged  on  a  sofa-cushion.  Thus  the  il- 
lusion of  being  real  Turks  would  be  complete.  He 
resisted  the  proposal,  feeling  sure  that  a  smoke  from 
a  hookah  would  make  Marjorie  violently  ill.  He  was 
even  uncertain  of  the  consequences  which  might  en- 
sue for  himself.  He  said  that  he  had  never  smoked 
the  hookah.  This  confession  lowered  him  in  Mar- 
jorie's  estimation.  She  thought,  and  said,  that  a  man 
who  found  himself  in  possession  of  a  hookah  with- 


144  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

out  making  any  attempt  to  smoke  it  must  be  lament- 
ably wanting  in  enterprise. 

The  Major  diverted  her  attention  from  this  dan- 
gerous game  by  producing  a  book  of  photographs. 
They  were  not  thrillingly  interesting,  being,  in  fact, 
for  the  most  part,  portraits  of  the  horses  he  had  bred 
and  sold.  They  dated  back  to  a  period  long  before 
Marjorie's  birth,  and  a  student  of  human  nature 
might  have  taken  pleasure  in  noting  how  few  and 
slight  were  the  changes  which  had  taken  place  in  the 
appearance  of  Jamesy  Deveril.  He  was  in  all  the 
pictures.  He  held  each  horse  by  the  head,  and  his 
face  wore  the  same  look  of  suppressed  pride  in  the 
beauty  of  the  animals  he  had  reared.  He  apparently 
wore  the  same  suit  of  clothes  during  the  whole  pe- 
riod covered  by  the  photographs,  and  the  same  tight 
leggings.  His  hair  showed  a  little  thinner,  but  the 
lines  on  his  lean  cheeks  grew  scarcely  any  deeper  as 
the  pages  of  the  book  were  turned  over.  Mar j one, 
after  viewing  the  first  ten  or  twelve  horses,  showed 
signs  of  being  bored.  The  Major  was  unable  to  in- 
terest her  in  the  special  merits  of  each  animal,  though 
that  was  a  subject  on  which  he  was  well  qualified  to 
give  instruction. 

Among  the  horses  there  were  scattered  here  and 
there  pictures  of  one  of  the  Major's  yachts.  There 
were  altogether  five  of  these  photographs  —  one  of  a 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  145 

small  schooner  of  very  antique  build,  two  of  yawls, 
and  two  of  cutters,  the  Spindrift  and  her  immediate 
predecessor.  In  the  Spindrift  Marjorie  suddenly  dis- 
played the  acutest  interest.  She  asked  an  immense 
number  of  questions,  requiring  minute  details  about 
the  sleeping  accommodation  on  board,  the  cooking  ar- 
rangements, the  number  of  plates,  cups,  and  forks 
with  which  the  boat  was  supplied.  Major  Kent  was 
delighted  with  himself  and  her.  He  felt  that  he  was 
really  educating  Marjorie  on  lines  likely  to  be  ap- 
proved by  her  mother.  He  drew  plans  of  the  Spin- 
drift's cabin,  explained  the  nature  of  lockers,  folding 
cots,  swinging  lamps,  and  other  matters  pertaining 
to  the  arrangement  of  a  ten-ton  yacht.  Marjorie's 
attention  never  flagged.  It  was  only  when  the  Major 
had  exhausted  the  cabins  and  went  on  to  deliver  a 
lecture  on  the  sails  and  ropes  that  her  shower  of 
questions  ceased.  The  rigging  did  not  interest  her. 
She  yawned,  and  finally  proposed  of  her  own  acsord 
to  go  to  bed. 

Mrs.   O'Halloran  had  reached  a  critical   stage  in 
the  cooking  of  the  Major's  dinner,  so  it  was  Mary 
Garry    who    attended    Marjorie.     Undressing    in    a 
leisurely  and  desultory  way,  Marjorie  wandered  about 
her  bedroom  and  plied  the  maid  with  questions. 
"  Were  you  ever  in  a  yacht,  Mary  Garry  ?  " 
Mary  Garry  had  not  been  in  a  yacht,  and  did  not 


146  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

want  to  go  in  one.  She  understood  that  people  who 
went  in  yachts  were  violently  ill. 

"  What  do  people  have  to  eat  in  yachts  ?  " 

Mary  Garry,  who  had  watched  Mrs.  O'Halloran 
pack  provisions  for  various  cruises,  was  of  opinion 
that  people  —  the  people  who  were  not  ill  —  ate  the 
same  things  on  yachts  as  they  did  on  dry  land;  but 
much  more  of  them.  Where  one  loaf  would  be  suffi- 
cient in  a  house  two  would  be  a  meagre  supply  in  a 
yacht. 

"Has  Paudeen  ever  been  on  a  yacht?" 

Mary  Garry  thought  not.  It  was,  she  said,  un- 
likely that  anyone  who  knew  Paudeen  Canavan,  even 
slightly,  would  take  him  on  a  yacht.  A  boy  of 
Paudeen's  incurably  vicious  disposition  was  difficult 
enough  to  manage  in  an  ordinary  yard.  He  would 
be  quite  impossible  on  a  yacht,  where  occasions  for 
wrongdoing  might  be  supposed  to  be  numerous. 

"Would  you  go  on  a  yacht  if  anybody  invited 
you?" 

"  I  would  not  then.  Is  it  me?  Sure,  what  would 
the  like  of  me  do  on  a  yacht?  It's  lost  I'd  be,  let 
alone  drownded." 

Marjorie  sighed.  There  had  risen  in  her  mind  a 
great  idea  while  she  was  looking  at  the  Major's  pho- 
tographs. She  conceived  a  plan  of  camping  out  on 
board  the  Spindrift.  She  had  no  wish  whatever  to 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  147 

sail  off  in  any  direction.  She  was  quite  content  that 
the  yacht  should  lie  at  anchor,  but  she  wanted  to  live 
in  the  little  cabin  which  her  uncle  described.  She 
wanted  to  sleep  under  a  grey  blanket,  in  one  of  the 
funny  little  cots,  which  were  folded  back  and  got  out 
of  the  way  in  the  morning.  She  wanted  to  cook  food 
at  the  galley  stove  and  to  eat  it  off  enamelled  metal 
plates  on  a  swinging  table.  Her  plan  was  to  take 
Mary  Garry  and  Paudeen  with  her.  Instinct  warned 
her  that  there  would  be  little  use  in  inviting  either 
her  uncle  or  Mrs.  O'Halloran.  They  would  take  a 
foolishly  sensible  view  of  the  scheme,  would  urge  the 
superiority  of  ordinary  beds  furnished  with  sheets, 
the  greater  comfort  of  meals  at  home  on  fixed  tables, 
and  the  folly  of  cooking  on  an  inconvenient  stove 
when  there  was  a  kitchen-range  available.  Of  Mary 
Garry  she  had  hopes,  and  would  gladly  have  included 
her  in  the  party,  but  it  appeared  that  Mary  Garry 
would  not  go.  She  fell  back  upon  Paudeen.  For 
nearly  an  hour  she  lay  awake  planning  the  details  of 
the  expedition.  Next  morning,  after  breakfast,  she 
found  Paudeen,  led  him  to  a  remote  corner  of  the 
hayloft,  and  propounded  the  dazzling  scheme. 
Paudeen,  unpunished  for  the  misdeeds  of  the  day  be- 
fore, had  grown  bold.  He  foresaw  difficulties,  but 
he  was  not  averse  from  making  an  effort  to  over- 
Come  them.  He  feared  that  he  would  not  be  able 


148  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

to  get  to  the  Spindrift  in  the  punt  without  oars,  and 
the  oars  were  kept  in  the  coach-house.  It  would  be 
difficult,  if  not  impossible,  to  abstract  them  without 
attracting  the  attention  of  Jamesy  Deveril.  Marjorie 
suggested  that  they  should  be  carried  off  by  Paudeen 
after  dark  and  concealed  near  the  punt.  She  pro- 
posed that  a  depot  of  food  should  be  established  on 
the  beach.  A  shelter  of  stones  should  be  built. 
Loaves  of  bread,  joints  of  meat,  and  other  necessities 
should  be  stored  in  it.  She  undertook  to  carry  off 
little  by  little  from  Mrs.  O'Halloran's  stores  a  quan- 
tity of  food  sufficient  to  last  for  several  days.  She 
would  bury  her  loot  under  the  hay  in  the  corner  of 
the  loft  in  which  they  sat,  and  Paudeen  could  carry 
it  down  to  the  beach  after  dark. 

Paudeen  Canavan,  though  he  suffered  himself  to 
be  occasionally  cowed  by  Jamesy  Deveril,  had  in  him 
the  makings  of  an  adventurer.  He  could  never  have 
been  a  leader  of  men,  for  he  lacked  initiative;  but, 
born  at  an  earlier  period,  he  might  have  developed 
into  a  subordinate  buccaneer,  and  ranged  the  Spanish 
Main,  a  terror  to  the  captains  of  treasure  fleets.  As 
a  seventeenth-century  Englishman  he  would  have  ad- 
ventured for  land  in  Ireland,  ridden  among  the  In- 
vincible Ironsides,  or  helped  to  harry  the  fleets  of  the 
Dutch.  A  century  later,  with  the  luck  of  being  bora 
a  Scottish  Highlander,  he  might  have  charged  among 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  149 

kilted  clansmen  against  the  artillery  of  General  Cope; 
or,  placed  in  different  circumstances,  plundered 
rajahs  in  the  service  of  the  East  India  Company.  He 
had  his  share  of  daring  and  resource  when  under  the 
direction  of  a  master  mind.  The  fear  of  stripes,  of 
the  wrath  of  Jamesy  Deveril,  might  make  him  hesi- 
tate over  some  trifling  peccadillo,  some  calf-coursing 
or  childish  expedition  to  the  seashore.  The  thought 
of  a  great  adventure  nerved  him.  He  brought  to 
the  aid  of  Marjorie's  imagination  a  knowledge  of 
what  was  practicable.  Between  them  plans  were 
laid,  details  thought  out,  and  the  whole  scheme  per- 
fected. 

Under  the  pretext  of  more  bicycle-riding,  Paudeen 
was  rescued  for  the  morning  from  his  duties  in  the 
stable.  He  and  Marjorie  made  their  way  to  the 
shore  and,  labouring  delightfully,  built  the  depot  for 
the  food.  It  was  not  rainproof,  but  that  mattered 
little.  The  sun  was  shining,  and  Paudeen  had  heard 
Jamesy  Deveril  say  in  the  morning  that  the  weather 
was  settled  for  a  couple  of  days  at  least.  They  re- 
turned to  Portsmouth  Lodge  and  put  the  bicycle  into 
the  coach-house.  With  nervous  joy  they  handled  the 
punt's  oars  and  discovered  the  hiding-place  of  the 
rowlocks.  Then  Paudeen  submitted  himself  to 
Jamesy  Deveril,  and  remained  during  the  day  so 
obedient,  hard-working,  and  preternaturally  good  that 


ISO  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

Jamesy  threatened  him  at  last  with  a  dose  of  castor- 
oil,  believing  that  the  boy  must  be  unwell. 

Marjorie  hung  round  Mrs.  O'Halloran  in  the 
kitchen.  She,  too,  was  extraordinarily  peaceable. 

"There  she'd  be,"  said  Mrs.  O'Halloran  after- 
wards, describing  the  day,  "  running  in  and  out  on 
me  the  same  as  if  she  was  playing  herself  without  a 
tint  of  mischief  in  her  head.  A  better  nor  a  nicer 
girleen  you  wouldn't  ask  to  see.  Nobody'd  ever  have 
thought  it  was  divilment  she  was  divising  in  the  in- 
side of  her  head." 

On  every  possible  occasion  Marjorie  seized  some- 
thing. The  turning  of  Mrs.  O'Halloran's  back  for 
an  instant  was  sufficient  for  her.  She  secured  the 
remains  of  the  box  of  sardines  which  Paudeen  had 
brought  out  from  Ballymoy  for  her  dinner  the  day 
before.  She  got  half  a  box  of  water  biscuits,  a  piece 
of  raw  bacon  which  hung  on  a  hook  in  the  larder, 
one  of  the  cakes  which  had  come  from  the  stores, 
and  at  last,  greatly  daring,  a  whole  loaf  of 
soda-bread,  which  had  just  been  taken  from  the 
oven. 

This  last  capture  very  nearly  led  to  serious  trouble. 
When  Marjorie  returned  to  the  kitchen  after  con- 
cealing the  loaf  in  the  hayloft  she  found  that  a  search 
was  being  made  for  it.  Mrs.  O'Halloran  sharply  ac- 
cused Mary  Garry  of  having  taken  it  up,  carried  it 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  151 

away,  left  it  somewhere  "  out  of  her  hand,"  and  then 
forgotten  the  whole  transaction. 

"  I  wasn't  next  nor  nigh  your  loaf,"  said  Mary 
Garry.  "  What  call  would  there  be  for  me  to  be 
taking  the  like?" 

";If  you  didn't  take  it,"  said  Mrs.  O'Halloran, 
"who  did?  It  was  there  sitting  on  the  dresser  this 
minute,  and  I  didn't  do  more  than  just  run  out  for 
a  sup  of  water  to  wash  the  cabbages  for  the  dinner, 
and  when  I  came  back  it  was  gone.  Take  care  now 
that  you  didn't  take  it  up  with  you  to  the  Major's 
room,  and  you  making  the  bed." 

"I  did  not.  Why  would  I,  when  I  have  the  bed 
made  since  ten  o'clock  this  morning?  Was  there 
e'er  a  dog  about  the  place  that  might  have  ate 
it?" 

"  There  was  not ;  barring  that  white  devil  that  Mel- 
don  brings  out  with  him,  there's  no  dogs  here,  and 
that  one  wasn't  out  these  two  days." 

"  It  might  be,"  said  Mary  Garry,  "  that  the  black 
polly  calf  strolled  in  unknown  to  you  and  whisked  it 
off  with  her.  I  always  did  say  that  that  calf  was  ter- 
rible wise." 

"  Arrah,  talk  sense.  When  did  ever  ye  hear  of  a 
calf  eating  a  loaf  of  bread?" 

"My  mother  had  a  turkey  hen  one  time,"  said 
Mary  Garry,  "  that  would  drink  tea  the  same  as  if  it 


152  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

was  a  Christian.  You'd  have  wondered  to  see  it. 
So  you  would." 

"Will  you  find  the  loaf,  wherever  you  have  it  put 
away,  and  stop  your  talk  about  turkey  hens." 

Marjorie  listened  and  watched.  There  was  an  air 
of  determination  about  Mrs.  O'Halloran,  which  made 
her  fear  that  the  search  would  be  prosecuted  with  the 
utmost  vigour  —  might  even  extend  to  places  less 
likely  than  the  hayloft.  The  discovery  of  the  loaf 
would  mean  the  loss  of  the  sardines,  the  biscuits,  the 
cake,  and  the  bacon.  It  would  involve  further  inves- 
tigations and  the  wrecking  of  her  whole  plan.  She 
determined  to  restore  the  loaf.  Mrs.  O'Halloran, 
clinging,  against  all  probability,  to  her  original  hy- 
pothesis, dragged  Mary  Garry,  now  weeping  co- 
piously, up  to  the  Major's  room.  She  stripped  the 
blankets  from  the  bed  in  her  determination  to  find  the 
spot  where  Mary  Garry  had  laid  the  loaf  down. 
Marjorie  seized  her  opportunity.  She  brought  the 
loaf  from  the  hayloft  and  put  it  on  the  ground  beside 
the  pump  in  the  yard.  Then  she  went  into  the  house 
and  shouted.  Mrs.  O'Halloran,  followed  by  Mary 
Garry,  whose  reputation  had  been  vindicated  by  the 
condition  of  the  Major's  bed,  came  downstairs  at 
once. 

"  I've  found  the  loaf,"  said  Marjorie ;  "  it's  out  in 
the  yard  beside  the  pump." 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  153 

Mary  Garry  giggled.  Mrs.  O'Halloran  cast  a 
glance  at  her  which  stopped  the  giggle  on  the  spot. 
She  walked  out  to  the  yard,  picked  up  the  loaf,  and 
brought  it  in. 

"  It  could  be,"  she  said  in  a  subdued  tone,  "  that  I 
took  it  with  me  when  I  went  to  get  the  water  for  the 
cabbage,  and  laid  it  down  unknown  to  myself.  It's 
what  I  don't  mind  ever  doing  before ;  nor  I  wouldn't 
have  believed  it,  not  if  the  priest  had  it  give  out  off 
the  altar  that  I  done  it.  But  where's  the  use  of  talk- 
ing? I  have  the  loaf  safe  now,  anyway,  and  you'd 
better  be  getting  on  with  your  work,  Mary  Garry. 
You  have  the  Major's  bed  to  make  over  again.  The 
way  you  make  beds,  it'll  do  the  blankets  no  harm  to 
get  a  bit  of  an  air.  If  I  did  right,  I'd  go  up  every 
day  of  my  life  and  spread  them  out  on  the  floor  and 
turn  the  mattresses  just  to  teach  you." 

There  must  have  been  words  on  the  tip  of  Mary 
Garry's  tongue  which  it  would  have  been  pleasant  to 
speak.  She  did  not  utter  them.  It  is  impossible 
that  she  refrained  from  a  magnanimous  dislike  of 
striking  a  fallen  foe.  It  is  more  likely  that  she  feared 
being  worsted  in  an  encounter  with  Mrs.  O'Halloran 
even  when  she  had  all  the  advantage  of  a  vastly  su- 
perior position. 

Marjorie  became  very  cautious.  During  the  re- 
mainder of  the  morning  she  only  succeeded  in  secur- 


154  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

ing  a  package  of  kitchen  salt,  a  small  quantity  of  tea, 
and  three  eggs,  one  of  which  she  unfortunately 
broke. 

That  night  Paudeen  crept  cautiously  from  his  bed 
in  the  room  above  the  coach-house  at  eleven  o'clock. 
It  was  very  dark,  and  in  his  efforts  to  find  the  oars 
he  upset  Marjorie's  bicycle.  It  fell  with  a  horrid 
clang  on  the  flagged  floor,  and  Paudeen  immediately 
tripped  over  it  and  fell  too.  He  lay  quite  still,  ex- 
pecting every  moment  to  hear  Major  Kent's  voice. 
Jamesy  Deveril,  most  fortunately,  slept  in  the  gate 
lodge,  so  there  was  no  fear  of  interruption  from  him. 
The  Major  was  either  sound  asleep  or  inattentive. 
He  made  no  move.  Paudeen  picked  himself  up  and 
stole  forward  very  warily,  feeling  his  way  along  the 
wall.  He  came  upon  the  oars  at  last,  and  carried 
them  off.  The  labour  of  his  undertaking  was  very 
great.  Not  caring  to  venture  along  the  drive,  which 
would  have  taken  him  past  Jamesy  Deveril's  bedroom 
window,  he  crossed  the  paddock,  and  had  to  climb  a 
wire  fence  and  a  wall.  He  stumbled  and  fell  several 
times  in  the  rough  fields  beyond  the  road.  Samson, 
with  the  gates  of  Gaza  on  his  shoulders,  must  have 
encountered  similar  difficulties  on  his  way  to  the  top 
of  Hebron  at  midnight.  But,  supposing  the  greater 
weight  of  the  gates  to  be  compensated  by  the  judge's 
superior  strength,  Paudeen  had  the  harder  task. 


(THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  155 

Samson,  the  gates  once  placed  in  the  appointed  place, 
could  lie  down  and  sleep.  Paudeen  had  to  go  back 
for  Marjorie's  store  of  provisions.  He  had  to  go 
back  twice,  making  the  double  journey  three  times 
altogether,  because  the  items  collected  by  Marjorie 
were  of  such  unadaptable  kinds,  and  of  such  awkward 
shapes,  that  he  could  not  carry  them  all  at  once.  An 
open  sardine-tin  cannot  be  carried,  without  serious 
risk,  in  the  same  hand  with  a  cake  while  climbing  a 
fence;  and  there  was  no  room  for  the  bacon  inside 
the  biscuit-tin.  It  was  greatly  to  Paudeen's  credit, 
considering  the  difficulties  he  had  to  deal  with,  that 
he  only  spilled  a  little  of  the  salt  and  broke  one  of 
the  remaining  eggs. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

AMONG  the  letters  on  the  Major's  breakfast 
table  next  morning  was  one  addressed  in  a 
pretty,  feminine  hand  to  "  Mrs.  Kent,  Portsmouth 
Lodge,  Ballymoy."  The  Major  looked  at  it  doubt- 
fully. The  address  was  his.  The  surname  was  quite 
plainly  written.  After  some  hesitation  he  opened  the 
envelope.  The  letter  inside  began  "  Dear  Madam." 
The  Major  hesitated  again,  turned  over  the  sheet  of 
paper,  and  looked  at  the  end.  It  was  signed  "  Olivia 
Garnett,"  and  enclosed  in  brackets  after  the  name 
were  the  letters  "  B.A."  He  took  another  look  at  the 
beginning  of  the  letter.  "Your  telegram,"  he  read, 
"  was  handed  to  me  yesterday  afternoon  in  the  office 
of  the  Irish  Times."  He  was  sure  of  his  correspond- 
ent at  last.  Olivia  Garnett,  B.A.,  was,  without  doubt, 
the  lady  whom  he  had  engaged  to  take  charge  of 
Marjorie.  He  read  the  letter  through. 

Miss  Garnett,  it  appeared,  was  quite  ready  to  spend 
her  holiday  in  looking  after  Mrs.  Kent's  children, 
and  had  no  objection  to  schoolboys.  She  assumed 
that  there  was  some  special  reason  for  haste,  and  pro- 
posed to  leave  Dublin  by  an  early  train  on  the  morn- 
ing after  she  wrote.  The  Major  glanced  at  the  date 
156 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  157 

of  the  letter,  and  came  to  the  conclusion  that  Miss 
Garnett  might  be  expected  to  arrive  in  Donard  at 
one  o'clock.  The  prospect  caused  him  acute  un- 
easiness. He  had  not  yet  told  Mrs.  O'Halloran  that 
he  was  engaging  a  governess.  Now  it  would  be 
necessary  to  have  a  bedroom  got  ready  at  once.  He 
expected  that  Mrs.  O'Halloran  would  be  very  much 
displeased,  and  he  recognised  that  she  would  have  a 
legitimate  grievance.  She  ought  in  all  fairness  to 
have  had  at  least  a  day's  warning  of  the  coming  of 
Miss  Garnett.  He  turned  to  the  letter  again  with  a 
sigh.  Miss  Garnett,  evidently  with  the  schoolboys 
in  her  mind,  declared  that  she  was  able  to  teach 
Latin  and  elementary  Greek.  Her  other  accomplish- 
ments included  French,  German,  music,  freehand  and 
geometrical  drawing,  Swedish  drill,  lawn-tennis,  and 
what  she  described  as  the  usual  English  subjects. 
The  Major  regretted  that  he  had  not  spent  an  extra 
five  shillings,  or  even  half  a  sovereign,  on  his  tele- 
gram and  made  his  position  clearer.  He  was  not  at 
all  sure  what  view  Miss  Garnett  might  take  of  an 
engagement  in  a  bachelor's  house;  and  it  seemed  al- 
most insulting  to  offer  no  more  than  one  small  girl 
to  a  lady  equipped  with  such  a  mass  of  miscellaneous 
learning.  Then  it  occurred  to  him,  to  the  great  in- 
crease of  his  uneasiness,  that  he  had  not  yet  told 
Marjorie  about  her  governess.  It  was  impossible  to 


158  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

foretell  with  any  certainty  how  she  would  take  the 
news,  but  there  was  a  horrible  possibility  that  she 
might  form  a  defensive  alliance  with  Mrs.  O'Hal- 
loran. 

Marjorie  entered  the  room  fresh  from  an  interview 
with  Paudeen  Canavan.  She  was  in  high;  spirits, 
for  she  had  learned  that  the  transport  of  the  oars  and 
provisions  had  been  safely  accomplished.  Major 
Kent,  deceived  by  her  smiles,  felt  that  it  might  be 
easy  to  reconcile  her  to  the  coming  of  Miss  Garnett. 
He  gave  her  a  bowl  of  porridge-and-milk,  and  then, 
after  the  manner  of  heralds  of  bad  news,  made  an 
oblique  advance  towards  his  subject. 

"How  would  you  like,"  he  said,  "to  have  a  lady 
to  play  with  instead  of  Paudeen?" 

Marjorie  swallowed  a  large  mouthful  of  porridge 
without  chewing  it  at  all,  and  looked  steadily  at  her 
uncle. 

"  I  should  not  like  it  at  all." 

She  spoke  quite  decidedly.  Her  mind  was  full  of 
her  elopement  to  the  yacht  with  Paudeen  Canavan. 
The  coming  of  a  strange  lady  would  be  very  likely 
to  interfere  with  her  plan. 

"  She's  a  very  nice  lady,"  said  the  Major  per- 
suasively. "  She  plays  lawn-tennis,  and  she's  fond  of 
Swedish  drill." 

"I  don't  want  any  lady." 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  159 

Marjorie's  emphasis  on  the  pronoun  allowed  the 
Major  to  infer  that  the  entertainment  of  any  lady 
who  might  arrive  would  be  left  entirely  on  his  liands. 

"  Her  name,"  he  said,  "  is  Olivia  Garnett." 

There  was  nothing  in  the  name  to  alter  Marjorie's 
opinion  of  the  desirability  of  the  lady's  presence ;  but 
she  was  a  kind-hearted  child,  and,  having  made  her 
own  position  plain,  she  did  not  want  to  interfere  with 
her  uncle's  pleasures. 

"All  right,  Uncle  John,"  she  said.  "When  she 
comes  she  can  play  at  lawn-tennis  and  Swedish  drill 
with  you  and  J.  J.  I'll  go  on  learning  to  ride  the 
bicycle  with  Paudeen." 

Major  Kent  did  not  feel  equal  to  any  further  ef- 
fort at  explanation.  There  seemed  to  him  only  one 
thing  to  do.  He  made  up  his  mind  to  get  Meldon 
out  to  Portsmouth  Lodge,  and  to  hand  over  to  him 
the  task  of  introducing  the  new  governess  to  Mar- 
jorie  and  Mrs.  O'Halloran.  When  breakfast  was 
over  he  went  out  into  the  yard  and  gave  his  orders 
to  Jamesy  Deveril. 

"  You'll  put  the  brown  cob  into  the  trap  at  once," 
he  said,  "  for  I'm  going  to  drive  into  Ballymoy. 
Then  you  can  take  the  car  yourself  and  go  over  to 
Donard.  There's  a  lady  arriving  by  the  one  o'clock 
train  —  a  Miss  Garnett  —  and  you're  to  bring  her 
back  here." 


160  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

He  spoke  in  a  casual,  careless  tone,  as  if  the  arrival 
of  lady  visitors  at  Portsmouth  Lodge  were  an  every- 
day matter.  Then,  without  giving  Jamesy  Deveril 
any  opportunity  for  asking  questions,  he  went  back 
into  the  house.  When  the  trap  stood  ready  for  him 
at  the  door  he  called  Mary  Garry. 

"  Mary,"  he  said,  "  I  forgot  to  mention  that  I  am 
expecting  a  lady  here  this  afternoon  at  about 
four  o'clock.  She  will  probably  be  staying  for 
some  time.  Will  you  kindly  tell  Mrs.  O'Halloran  to 
have  a  room  ready  for  her?  I  can't  wait  to  settle 
about  it  myself,  for  I  have  an  important  engage- 
ment." 

Then,  lest  Mrs.  O'Halloran  should  sally  swiftly 
from  the  kitchen  and  speak  to  him,  he  drove  off. 
Afterwards,  no  doubt,  there  would  be  trouble  with 
Mrs.  O'Halloran,  but  he  intended  to  have  Meldon  by 
his  side  when  that  time  came. 

He  drove  into  Ballymoy  and  put  up  his  cob,  as 
usual,  in  the  stable  behind  Doyle's  hotel.  As  he  went 
out  of  the  yard  gate  he  was  met  by  Meldon,  who  ap- 
peared to  be  in  an  exceptionally  cheerful  humour. 
He  had  just  learned  from  Doyle  that  Father  McCor- 
mack  and  the  reverend  Mother  had  taken  kindly  to 
the  idea  of  the  troop  of  fairies,  and  that  the  dress- 
maker was  already  engaged  on  the  costumes.  There 
were  to  be  eight,  ten,  or  twelve  attendant  leprechauns, 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  161 

according  to  the  number  of  dresses  that  could  be  £ot 
ready  in  time. 

"  I  saw  you,"  said  Meldon,  "  out  of  the  back  win- 
dow of  the  hotel  as  you  were  putting  up  the  coa. 
I  was  just  having  a  chat  with  Doyle  about  the  pres- 
entation of  the  address  to  the  Lord  Lieutenant  and 
Lady  Chesterton." 

"J.  ].,''  said  the  Major,  "she's  coming  to-day." 

"  Nonsense !  Father  McCormack  had  another  let- 
ter this  morning.  She  won't  be  here  till  Tuesday." 

"No,"  said  the  Major.     "To-day." 

"  Who  are  you  talking  about  ?  Lady  Chester- 
ton?" 

"  No.  Olivia  Garnett  —  Miss  Garnett,  or  Mrs. 
Garnett.  I  don't  know  which  she  is.  The  gov- 
erness." 

"  Oh,  the  governess !  I  wasn't  thinking  of  her.  I 
hope  she'll  turn  out  all  right.  What  does  Marjorie 
say?" 

"  I'd  like  to  talk  the  whole  thing  over  with  you, 
J.  J.  Are  you  busy?" 

"  My  business,"  said  Meldon,  "  consists  very 
largely  of  helping  people  who  are  in  any  kind  of 
difficulty.  Just  come  into  my  rooms  and  tell  me 
what's  wrong.  If  you're  not  satisfied  about  the 
lady's  character  it  will  be  better  to  turn  her  back  at 
once.  You  can't  afford  to  run  risks." 


162  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

Maher-Shalal-Hash-Baz  was  expelled  from  the 
armchair  in  Meldon's  room,  but  the  Major  preferred, 
he  said,  to  sit  at  the  table  while  dealing  with  serious 
business.  He  handed  Miss  Garnett's  letter  to  Mel- 
don,  who  read  it  carefully. 

"There  seems,"  he  said,  "to  be  some  slight  mis- 
understanding. Olivia  evidently  thinks  she's  coming 
into  a  large  family  with  a  Mrs.  Kent  at  the  head  of 
it.  What  did  you  say  in  your  telegram  ?  " 

"  I  don't  remember." 

"You  must  have  stated,  or  at  all  events  implied," 
said  Meldon,  "  that  you  had  a  wife  and  six  children, 
two  of  them  at  least  schoolboys  home  for  the  holi- 
days." 

"  I  couldn't  possibly  have  said  that.  I  only  spent 
eightpence  on  the  telegram,  and,  in  any  case,  I 
wouldn't  have  said  it.  Where  would  have  been  the 
point  of  telling  the  woman  a  pack  of  lies  ?  " 

"  It  will  be  something  of  a  surprise  to  Olivia," 
said  Meldon,  "  when  she  arrives  and  finds  out  the 
true  state  of  the  case." 

"Do  you  suppose  she'll  go  back  again  at  once?" 

"No.  I  don't.  In  my  opinion  she'll  be  delighted. 
But  it  will  be  time  enough  to  [consider  her  attitude 
when  we've  made  up  our  minds  whether  she's  the 
proper  sort  of  person  to  take  charge  of  Marjorie. 
Does  she  thoroughly  understand  the  Parents'  Union 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  163 

system    of    education?    That's    the    first    question." 

"  I  don't  know.  I  didn't  mention  that  in  my  tele- 
gram." 

"  You  ought  to  have  mentioned  it.  The  sixpence 
you  saved  there,  Major,  will  cost  you  dear  before 
you're  through  with  this  business.  You'll  very  likely 
have  to  pay  her  way  back  to  Dublin.  The  first  thing 
you'd  better  do  when  she  arrives  is  to  explain  the 
system  to  her,  and  ask  her  whether  she's  prepared 
to  work  along  those  lines." 

"  I'll  give  her  Margaret's  pamphlets  to  read,"  said 
the  Major.  "  But  that's  not  the  real  difficulty. 
What  I  want  to  talk  to  you  about  is " 

"  Let's  get  rid  of  one  thing  at  a  time,"  said  Meldon. 
"  You  can't  give  her  those  pamphlets  to  read,  because 
you  haven't  got  them.  I  lent  them  to  Doyle  this 
morning,  and  told  him  to  pass  them  on  to  Father 
McCormack." 

"What  on  earth  did  you  do  that  for?  They've 
neither  of  them  got  any  children  to  educate." 

"You'll  find,"  said  Meldon— "in  fact,  I  expect 
you've  observed  already  —  that  it's  the  people  who 
haven't  got  any  children  who  take  the  keenest  inter- 
est in  education.  All  the  authorities  on  the  subject 
—  those  who  invent  the  new  theories  —  are  either 
unmarried  women  or  confirmed  old  bachelors.  John 
Stuart  Mill,  who  wrote  one  of  the  best  books  there 


164  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

is  on  education,  is  a  case  in  point.  The  moment  peo- 
ple, men  or  women,  get  even  one  child  of  their  own, 
their  interest  in  education  begins  to  flag.  When  they 
get  two  or  three  children  it  requires  the  utmost  ex- 
ertions of  the  Parents'  Union  and  other  similar  so- 
cieties to  keep  them  up  to  the  mark.  Those  who  have 
really  large  families  know  what  utter  rot  the  whole 
thing  is,  and  nothing  short  of  the  Compulsory  Edu- 
cation Act  will  induce  them  to  send  the  poor  little 
things  to  school.  That  explains  to  you  why  I  gave 
all  your  sister  Margaret's  literature  to  Doyle  and 
Father  McCormack.  They're  the  only  two  people, 
except  myself,  in  the  town  of  Ballymoy,  who  haven't 
got  any  children.  Consequently,  they're  the  only  two 
who  care  enough  about  education  to  toil  through  all 
that  printed  matter.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  I  had  an- 
other reason  as  well.  They  are  both  going  to  make 
speeches  at  Lady  Chesterton's  meeting  for  the  ameli- 
oration of  the  Irish  child.  Now  I  want  the  thing  to 
be  a  success.  I  want  Ballymoy  to  show  up  well.  If 
I  leave  Father  McCormack  and  Doyle  to  themselves 
they'll  just  talk  the  usual  platitudes.  You  know  the 
kind  of  thing." 

"  No,"  said  the  Major,  "  I  don't.  And  what's  more, 
I  don't  care.  I  didn't  come  here  to  talk  about  your 
meeting.  I'm  in  a  fix  about  this  governess." 

"  We'll   get   back  to   the  governess   in   a   minute. 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  165 

Just  at  present  I  am  explaining  why  it  was  necessary 
to  give  those  pamphlets  to  Father  McCormack  and 
Doyle.  The  priest,  if  left  to  himself,  would  have  got 
up  at  the  meeting  and  said  that  the  future  of  the  na- 
tion depends  on  the  efficiency  of  the  school  —  which, 
of  course,  isn't  true.  The  most  successful  nations,  the 
ancient  Romans  and  a  little  later  on  the  Goths,  had 
practically  no  schools  at  all,  efficient  or  otherwise. 
Father  McCormack  knows  that  perfectly  well;  but 
he'd  say  the  other  thing,  and  go  on  saying  it  in  dif- 
ferent words  for  at  least  ten  minutes.  It  wouldn't 
be  his  fault.  He'd  have  to,  for  he  wouldn't  know 
what  else  to  say.  Then  the  Marchioness  would  get 
up  and  say  that  the  hand  that  rocks  the  cradle  rules 
the  world.  That's  another  of  those  things  which 
everybody  agrees  to  consider  true,  but  which  is  really 
a  horrid  lie.  The  women  who  have  taken  a  real  share 
in  ruling  the  world  took  jolly  good  care  never  to 
rock  cradles.  Look  at  Queen  Elizabeth.  Look  at 
Katherine  the  Great  of  Russia.  Did  she  rock  the 
cradle  of  the  infant  Paul?  Not  she.  She  bundled 
him  off  to  his  grandmother,  and  left  him  with  the 
old  lady  till  he  was  grown  up.  After  the  marchion- 
ess has  finished,  Doyle  will  get  on  his  legs,  and  he,  if 
not  carefully  instructed  beforehand,  will  make  us  all 
sick  by  repeating  that  emigration  is  the  curse  of  this 
country  —  which  may  be  true,  but  is  disgustingly  stale. 


166  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

But  if  he  and  Father  McCormack  take  a  couple  of 
those  pamphlets  and  magazines  of  yours  and  work 
them  up  they'll  make  speeches  which  will  be  reported 
in  every  paper  in  Ireland.  Some  of  the  ideas  are  ab- 
solutely new  in  this  country." 

"Anyway,"  said  the  Major,  "it  doesn't  matter 
about  the  pamphlets.  I  don't  want  them.  I  don't 
care  if  I  never  see  them  again.  I  want  to  know  what 
I'm  to  do  about  Miss  Garnett.  What  will  she  do 
when  she  finds  out  there's  only  one  little  girl  for  her 
to  teach,  and  that  I'm  a  bachelor?  She's  expecting  to 
find  a  Mrs.  Kent.  You  saw  her  letter." 

"  If  she's  made  up  her  mind  to  face  a  pack  of  howl- 
ing children  and  a  couple  of  schoolboys,  it  will  be  an 
immense  relief  to  her  to  find  only  one  little  girl. 
You  may  make  your  mind  quite  easy  about  that." 

"  But  what  about  there  being  no  Mrs.  Kent  ?  Will 
she  object  to  my  being  a  bachelor?" 

"Not  at  all.  She'll  be  pleased.  As  I  told  you 
when  you  first  thought  of  engaging  her,  she'll  occupy 
her  spare  time  in  trying  to  marry  you.  Whether  she 
succeeds  or  not  —  and  I  expect  she  will  succeed  — 
she'll  have  a  very  pleasant  and  exciting  holiday." 

"J.  J.,  there's  one  other  spare  bedroom  in  Ports- 
mouth Lodge.  Will  you  come  out  and  spend  the  next 
month  with  me  ?  " 

"  I  will  not.     I  know  what's  in  your  mind.     You're 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  167 

thinking  that  if  I  were  there  Olivia  would  prefer  me, 
and  you'd  get  off.  That  is,  of  course,  quite  true. 
But  there  are  limits  to  what  you  ought  to  expect  of 
a  friend.  I  have  my  reputation  to  consider.  I'm  a 
clergyman,  and  I'm  engaged  to  be  married.  I  can't 
spend  my  time  gadding  up  and  down  the  country  and 
flirting  outrageously  with  every  pretty  governess  you 
choose  to  engage.  It  wouldn't  be  right,  and  I  won't 
do  it,  even  to  oblige  you." 

"  I  don't  want  you  to  flirt  with  her.  I  only  want 
you  to  be  there." 

"Oh,  to  act  as  a  sort  of  chaperon.  Well,  I  won't 
do  that  either.  There's  nothing  so  unpleasant  as 
watching  other  people  love-making.  And  my  pres- 
ence wouldn't  be  the  slightest  check  on  her.  If  she 
makes  up  her  mind  to  marry  you,  she  will  marry  you, 
whether  I'm  there  or  not." 

The  Major  sat  silent,  no  doubt  contemplating  his 
awful  fate. 

"  I  suppose,"  said  Meldon,  "  that  you've  made  out 
a  programme  for  her  guidance." 

"  A  programme  ?  " 

"  Yes.  That's  absolutely  essential.  You  can't  have 
a  governess  without  giving  her  a  programme.  It 
ought  to  be  done  in  French ;  but  if  you  can't  manage 
that,  do  it  in  English  and  I'll  translate  it  for  you. 
The  sort  of  thing  I  mean  is  this :  '  8  a.m.,  get  up  and 


168  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

see  that  Marjorie  washes  her  teeth.'  You  can  put 
that  job  on  Olivia  anyhow.  '8.45,  breakfast.'  Here 
you  might  add  a  footnote  on  Mrs.  Purvis's  wishes 
about  the  chewing  of  food.  '9.30  to  10.30,  walk.' 
Promenade  is  the  French  for  walk,  in  case  you  think 
of  doing  the  thing  in  that  language  yourself.  '  Sub- 
jects for  conversation  during  walk.  Monday:  Com- 
mon objects  of  the  kitchen  garden  —  e.g.  green  cater- 
pillars, young  tomatoes,  the  wire-worm,  and  so  forth. 
Tuesday:  Common  objects  on  the  high  road,  the  do- 
mestic ass " 

"  I'll  keep  the  domestic  ass  till  you  come  out,""  said 
the  Major. 

Meldon  ignored  the  insult.  It  was  blunt,  obvious, 
an  imitation  of  the  repartee  of  the  schoolboy  —  alto- 
gether beneath  his  notice. 

"  In  that  way,"  he  said,  "  you'll  be  able  to  regulate 
Olivia's  work  without  having  to  keep  dodging  in  and 
out  of  the  school-room  all  day  long." 

"When  I've  told  her  that  she  has  to  get  up  at 
eight,"  said  the  Major,  "and  when  I've  forced  her 
to  go  out  for  a  walk  at  ten,  whether  she  wants  to  or 
not,  it  won't  make  things  any  worse  if  I  go  spying  on 
her  movements.  I  shall  certainly  consult  her  before 
I  make  any  such  arrangement  of  her  time." 

"  Marjorie  is  the  person  to  consult,"  said  Meldon, 
"  if  you  consult  anyone." 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  169 

"The  fact  is,  J.  J.,"  said  the  Major,  "I  haven't 
told  Marjorie  yet  that  Miss  Garnett  is  coming." 

"  You  haven't  told  Marjorie !  Good  gracious,  Ma- 
jor! There'll  be  a  horrible  row  when  you  do.  Mar- 
jorie ought  to  have  been  in  your  confidence  from  the 
very  start.  No  self-respecting  child  would  stand  be- 
ing ignored  in  that  way.  Have  you  told  Mrs.  O'Hal- 
loran?" 

"  No ;  I  haven't.  At  least,  I  sent  her  a  sort  of  mes- 
sage by  Mary  Garry." 

"  Then  there'll  be  another  row.  On  the  whole,  Ma- 
jor, I  don't  think  you're  going  to  have  a  particularly 
pleasant  time.  If  I  were  you,  I'd  tell  Marjorie  and 
Mrs.  O'Halloran  together.  Make  a  kind  of  public 
announcement,  and  when  you've  done  it  retire  at  once 
to  your  bedroom  and  have  out  the  doctor.  I'll  give 
him  the  tip  and  get  him  to  wire  to  Dublin  for  a  hos- 
pital nurse.  She'll  protect  you  from  Mrs.  O'Hal- 
loran, Olivia,  and  Marjorie;  and  if  she  marries  you 
herself  in  the  end,  you'll  be  no  worse  off.  For  all 
you  know  to  the  contrary,  the  nurse  may  be  the  bet- 
ter-looking of  the  two." 

"  I  thought,  J.  J.,  that  perhaps  you'd  come  out  and 
break  it  to  Mrs.  O'Halloran  and  Marjorie.  You  al- 
ways say  that  you  like  helping  people  out  of  difficul- 
ties. I'm  sure  you'll  never  get  a  better  opportunity 
than  this." 


170  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

"  Oh,  that's  what  you  want,  is  it  ?  I  suspected 
that  that  was  what  you  were  getting  at  when  you  first 
began.  Why  couldn't  you  have  come  to  the  point  at 
once,  instead  of  wasting  time  over  side-issues?  I 
can't  go  out  this  morning,  but  I  will  this  afternoon. 
What  time  does  Olivia  arrive  ?  " 

"  About  four.  Jamesy  has  gone  over  to  Donard  to 
meet  her." 

"  Very  well.  I  shall  be  with  you  shortly  before 
four.  I'll  have  the  whole  household  assembled  in  the 
dining-room  —  Marjorie,  Mrs.  O'Halloran,  Mary 
Garry,  Jamesy  Deveril,  Paudeen  Canavan,  and  Olivia. 
I'll  make  a  speech  to  them  urging  them  to  adopt  an 
attitude  of  mutual  forbearance.  I'll  do  my  best  to 
persuade  them  that  the  unpleasant  position  in  which 
they  find  themselves  is  not  due  to  any  want  of  con- 
sideration for  their  feelings  on  your  part ;  and  I'll  tell 
them  that  if  any  of  them  make  themselves  unpleas- 
ant to  each  other,  you,  acting  on  my  advice,  will  sim- 
ply go  to  bed  and  leave  them  to  fight  it  out.  That,  I 
think,  is  the  best  line  to  take." 


CHAPTER  XIV 

IT  was  a  quarter  to  four  o'clock  when  Meldon  ar- 
rived at  Portsmouth  Lodge.  Major  Kent  was 
waiting  for  him,  impatient  and  nervous.  Miss  Gar- 
nett  might  arrive  at  any  moment,  and  nothing  had 
been  done  to  propitiate  the  other  members  of  the 
household.  Mrs.  O'Halloran  had  not  spoken  a  sin- 
gle word  on  the  subject,  and  her  silence  alarmed  the 
Major  very  much.  A  voluble  protest,  even  accom- 
panied by  the  tears  of  Mary  Garry,  would  have  set 
his  mind  at  ease,  though  it  would  have  been  very  un- 
pleasant. Her  refusal  to  express  any  opinion  about 
the  message  she  had  received  in  the  morning  left  him 
in  a  state  of  dreadful  uncertainty  about  the  line  she 
meant  to  take.  He  was  equally  uncomfortable  about 
Marjorie.  She  had  gone  out  early  in  the  afternoon. 
He  supposed  that  she  was  practising  bicycle-riding 
with  Paudeen  Canavan.  She  had  not  returned,  and 
it  was  quite  possible  that  she  might  meet  Miss  Gar- 
nett  on  the  road.  The  thought  of  what  might  occur 
if  she  learned  the  truth  first  from  the  lips  of  her  gov- 
erness filled  the  Major  with  acute  anxiety.  Mar- 
jorie was  a  child  who  never  hesitated  to  speak  out 
when  she  felt  strongly,  and  it  was  likely  that  she 
171 


i;2  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

would  feel  very  strongly  indeed  about  Miss  Garnett. 
It  was  with  a  sense  of  great  relief  that  he  greeted 
Meldon  when  he  walked  into  the  room,  hot  and  dusty. 

"  I've  cut  it  rather  fine,"  said  Meldon ;  "  in  fact, 
I'm  only  just  in  time.  I  passed  the  car  a  mile  back 
on  the  road,  and  Olivia  will  be  here  in  about  ten 
minutes.  It  wasn't  my  fault.  We  met  a  new  dog 
just  outside  the  workhouse  —  a  kind  of  brindled 
sheep-dog,  and,  of  course,  Maher-Shalal-Hash-Baz 
had  to  stop  to  kill  it.  That  delayed  me  ten  minutes, 
for  the  sheep-dog  put  up  a  middling  good  fight. 
Then  I  punctured  a  [couple  of  miles  out  of  the  town, 
and  found  I  hadn't  a  repair  outfit.  I  had  to  ride  the 
rest  of  the  way  on  my  rim." 

"  You're  here  now  anyway,"  said  the  Major,  "  and 
that's  the  great  thing." 

"  Everything  quite   ready,    I   suppose  ?    Afternoon 
tea  spread  out  in  the  drawing-room?     Mary  Garry 
with  her   cap   and   apron   on,   a   vase  of   roses   on   . 
Olivia's  dressing-table,  and  Marjorie's  hair  brushed  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  Mrs.  O'Halloran  has  kept  out  of 
my  way  ever  since  I  came  home.  I  didn't  like  to  pre- 
cipitate things  by  making  inquiries.  I  daresay  it's 
all  right  about  tea.  Marjorie  is  out  bicycling.  I 
haven't  seen  Mary  Garry  since  lunch.  She  hadn't 
her  cap  and  apron  on  then;  but  she  may  have  put 
them  on  since." 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  173 

"  Mar j one  must  be  sent  for  at  once,"  said  Meldon. 
"  Then  we'll  see  about  Mary  Garry's  toilet.  Our 
plan  of  operations  is  as  follows.  I  meet  Olivia  at  the 
door " 

"  I  wish  you  wouldn't  call  her  '  Olivia,' "  said  the 
Major.  "  You'll  do  it  to  her  face  if  you  get  into  the 
habit  of  it;  and  then  there'll  be  trouble." 

"  That'll  be  all  right.  You'll  be  calling  her  by  her 
Christian  name  yourself  in  a  day  or  two.  I  caught 
a  glimpse  of  her  as  I  passed  the  car.  She's  got 
fluffy  yellow  hair,  and  a  nice  round  dimply  sort  of 
face.  I  should  say  that  she's  just  the  sort  of  girl 
who'll  be  engaged  to  be  married  to  you  in  the  inside 
of  a  week ;  and  you'll  like  it  tremendously.  I  daresay 
it'll  be  a  relief  to  Marjorie,  too,  when  the  thing 
comes  to  a  head  and  she  isn't  responsible  any  more 
for  entertaining  Olivia.  But  we  haven't  time  to  dis- 
cuss your  marriage  now.  I'll  meet  her  at  the  door. 
You'll  lie  low  until  I  bring  her  in  and  introduce 
her." 

"  I  don't  see  why,"  said  the  Major.  "  I  don't  par- 
ticularly want  to  meet  her  at  the  door,  but  the  fact 
that  she's  good-looking  —  if  she  is  —  doesn't  seem  to 
me  any  reason  why  I  shouldn't." 

"  If  you  think  the  matter  out  you'll  see  at  once 
that  you  can't  —  not  at  least  if  you've  any  decency  of 
feeling.  The  poor  girl  has  been  travelling  since 


174  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

seven  o'clock  this  morning.  Coming  into  a  strange 
house  she'll  naturally  like  to  look  her  very  best. 
That  means  that  she'll  want  to  tidy  her  hair,  put  her 
hat  on  straight,  and  get  out  a  clean  pocket-handker- 
chief before  she  faces  you.  You're  the  man  she'll 
want  to  make  a  good  impression  on.  It  doesn't  mat- 
ter about  me;  but  she  would  hate  you  to  see  her  for 
the  first  time  with  her  hair  all  tousled  and  some  hor- 
rid smut  or  other  on  the  end  of  her  nose." 

"  Very  well,  J.  J.  Settle  it  any  way  you  like ;  but 
I  don't  suppose  she'll  care  much  about  your  washing 
her  face  for  her.  Nobody  would." 

"I  don't  propose  to  wash  her  face.  I  intend  to 
hand  her  over  to  Mary  Garry  with  the  remark,  made 
in  a  polite  but  conversational  tone  calculated  to  set 
her  at  her  ease  at  once,  that  tea  will  be  ready  in  the 
drawing-room  in  ten  minutes,  and  that  if  she 
wants  anything  she  has  only  to  ring  the  bell  in  her 
room." 

"  I  doubt  if  ringing  the  bell  will  be  much  good.  I 
haven't,  as  I  said,  seen  Mrs.  O'Halloran ;  but  I  ex- 
pect, from  what  I  know  of  her  character,  that  she'll 
be  most  unwilling  to  take  any  notice  of  that  bell. 
She  hates  bells,  and  I'm  nearly  certain  she  broke  the 
study  one  on  purpose  last  week..  If  Miss  Garnett 
rings  hers " 

"  I  shan't  give  Mrs.  O'H.  a  chance  of  being  dis- 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  175 

agreeable.  I  shall  collar  Mary  Garry  and  stand  over 
her  until  Olivia  comes  down  again.  You  can  count 
on  me,  Major.  If  Olivia  rings  her  bell,  Mary  Garry 
will  go  bounding  upstairs  like  an  antelope,  and  what- 
ever is  asked  for  will  be  brought  at  once,  unless  it's 
something  entirely  unreasonable.  In  the  meanwhile 
you  will  go  into  the  drawing-room,  sit  down  on  a 
chair,  and  pretend  to  read  a  book.  You  will  have 
a  paper-knife  in  your  hand " 

"Why?" 

"  My  dear  Major !  This  lady  comes  here  bristling 
with  knowledge  and  oozing  all  over  with  culture. 
She's  a  bachelor  of  arts.  She  didn't  mention  her  uni- 
versity in  the  letter,  but  a  degree  of  that  sort  means 
learning,  wherever  it's  got.  She  will  naturally  ex- 
pect to  associate  with  people  who  are  interested  in  lit- 
erature and  art.  You're  not;  so  the  only  thing  to  do 
is  to  try  and  give  her  the  impression  that  you  are. 
She'll  find  you  out  in  the  end,  of  course;  but  if,  when 
she  first  sees  you,  you  have  a  book  in  one  hand  and  a 
paper-knife  in  the  other  she'll  get  a  good  general 
idea  of  your  character.  After  all,  it's  not  much  to 
ask  you  to  do,  when  she's  taking  all  the  trouble  to 
wash  her  face  and  do  her  hair  so  as  to  make  a  fa- 
vourable impression  on  you.  As  soon  as  she  enters 
the  room  you  will  rise,  smiling  in  a  friendly  and 
hospitable  manner,  extend  your  right  hand " 


i;6  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

"  Thanks.  I  have  shaken  hands  with  people  be- 
fore. I  shouldn't  have  offered  her  my  left." 

"And  express  a  hope  that  she's  had  a  pleasant 

journey Ah!  I  hear  the  car!  That  must  be 

her.  Now  recollect  what  I  said.  The  moment  you 
hear  Olivia  go  upstairs  you  slip  quietly  into  the  draw- 
ing-room with  a  book  and  a  paper-knife." 

The  door  of  the  study  shut  behind  Meldon.  The 
Major  heard  Mary  Garry  summoned  loudly.  The 
car  drew  up  at  the  door.  Meldon's  voice  was  audi- 
ble again.  He  was  talking  volubly,  evidently  to  Miss 
Garnett.  There  were  footsteps  in  the  hall.  A  door 
upstairs  was  shut  with  a  violent  bang.  The  Major 
rose,  slipped  out  of  the  study,  and  went  into  the 
drawing-room.  He  carried  with  him  a  volume  of  his 
Encyclopaedia  marked  on  the  cover  "  Jab  to  Sli,"  and 
had  a  large  silver-mounted  Spanish  clasp-knife  as  a 
paper-cutter.  Meldon  entered  the  room  a  few  min- 
utes later. 

"  It's  all  right,"  he  said.  "  She  hasn't  rung  the 
bell  yet,  and  she  hardly  will  now.  Anyhow,  I  think 
Mary  Garry  will  go  to  her  if  she  does.  But  I  was 
obliged  to  speak  very  strongly  to  her.  Mrs.  O'Hal- 
loran  has  evidently  been  working  her  up.  I  can  tell 
you,  Major,  that  old  woman  is  in  a  fine  temper.  I 
never  saw  anything  to  equal  her.  It  seems  that  she 
and  Mary  Garry  between  them  have  lost  or  mislaid 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  177 

a  couple  of  pounds  of  bacon,  a  box  of  water-biscuits, 
half  a  tin  of  sardines,  a  package  of  kitchen  salt, 
three  eggs,  and  some  other  provisions  of  a  miscel- 
laneous kind.  I  couldn't  go  into  the  matter  fully,  but 
I  rather  fancy  that  Mrs.  O'Halloran  regards  Olivia 
as  in  some  way  responsible  for  their  disappearance. 
There  will  be  a  worse  row  than  I  counted  on.  No 
governess,  especially  if  she's  entirely  innocent,  will 
put  up  with  being  called  a  thief  before  she's  half  an 
hour  in  the  house.  Did  you  hear  the  way  Mary 
Garry  banged  the  door  of  the  bedroom  after  she  got 
Olivia  inside?  That  just  shows  the  sort  of  feelings 
Mrs.  O'Halloran  is  giving  way  to.  However,  I  think 
the  tea  will  be  all  right.  I  hate  threatening  people, 
especially  girls ;  but  the  matter  was  urgent,  so  I  told 
Mary  Garry  that  if  tea  wasn't  brought  into  this  room 
in  the  inside  of  ten  minutes  I'd  give  Paudeen  Canavan 
half  a  crown  to  put  live  rats  in  her  bed  every  night 
for  a  fortnight.  I  rather  fancy  that'll  make  her 
mind  herself  for  a  bit.  By  the  way,  I  was  quite  right 
about  Olivia.  She's  an  extremely  attractive- 
looking  girl  and  very  nicely  dressed.  I  don't  pity 
you  a  bit  for  having  to  marry  her,  though  I  suspect 
that  when  you  do  Mrs.  O'Halloran  will  leave  at 
once." 

Miss  Garnett  entered  the  room.    The  Major  rose 
hurriedly,  dropping  the  Encyclopaedia  and  the  dagger 


i/8  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

on  the  hearthrug.  Meldon  performed  the  ceremony 
of  introduction. 

"  This  is  Major  Kent,"  he  said.  "  Major,  Miss 
Garnett.  I'm  sure  you'll  be  glad  of  a  cup  of  tea, 
Miss  Garnett.  If  you'll  excuse  me  for  a  moment,  I'll 
just  go  and  make  Mary  Garry  bring  it  in  at  once." 

"  I  hope,"  said  the  Major,  "  that  you  had  a  pleas- 
ant journey." 

"Oh,  yes,  thanks;  and  the  drive  from  the  station 
was  beautiful !  " 

Before  the  Major  had  hit  on  a  suitable  remark  to 
make  about  the  scenery,  Meldon's  voice  reached 
them  through  the  open  door.  He  was  speaking 
loudly,  and  every  word  he  said  was  plainly  audible. 

"  Very  well ;  I'm  not  going  to  drag  you  into  the 
drawing-room  by  the  scruff  of  your  neck.  I  have 
some  regard  for  appearances,  if  you  haven't.  But 
remember  what  I  say.  Two  rats  every  night  —  pie- 
bald rats,  with  long,  scaly  tails ;  rats  of  a  particularly 
loathsome  breed.  I'll  get  them  out  specially  from 
Doyle's  oat-loft,  where  there  are  thousands  of  them. 
At  the  end  of  a  week  you'll  be  sorry  that  you  wouldn't 
bring  in  that  tea." 

Miss  Garnett  started  slightly,  and  looked  inquir- 
ingly at  the  Major. 

A  moment  later  Meldon  entered  the  room  carrying 
the  tea-tray. 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  179 

"  I  hope,"  he  said  genially,  "  that  you  won't  mind 
our  rough-and-ready  ways,  Miss  Garnett.  The  Ma- 
jor's parlourmaid  has  gone  out  to  fetch  Miss  Mar- 
jorie,  your  future  pupil.  We  thought  you'd  like  to 
see  her  at  once.  The  cook  doesn't  care  about  coming 
into  the  drawing- roor".  She's  not  accustomed  to  la- 
dies, and  —  but  I  expect  you  understand  the  way  of 
cooks  thoroughly.  Mrs.  O'Halloran  is  excellent  at 
savouries,  but  shs  requires  a  little  humouring.  I 
thought  the  best  thing  to  do  was  to  bring  in  the  tea 
myself." 

"  How  old  is  Marjorie?  "  asked  Miss  Garnett,  ad- 
dressing Major  Kent. 

"  Ten,"  said  Meldon  — "  ten  or  eleven.  Neither 
the  Major  nor  I  are  quite  sure  which,  but  no  doubt 
you'll  be  able  to  find  out.  She  has  been  brought  up 
in  Australia,  and  she  may  be  a  little  backward  in 
Latin  and  geometrical  drawing;  but  I  expect  you'll 
find  her  up  to  the  mark  in  everything  else.  Are  you 
going  to  pour  out  tea,  Major,  or  sliall  I?  Or  what 
do  you  say  if  we  ask  Miss  Garnett  to  do  it?" 

"  Won't  Mrs.  Kent  be  here  ?  "  asked  Miss  Garnett. 

"  No,"  said  Meldon ;  "  she  won't.  The  fact  is  that 
Marjorie's  mother  —  she's  Mrs.  Purvis,  by  tae  way, 
not  Mrs.  Kent  —  is  at  present  touring  round  the  chief 
cities  of  Europe,  enjoying  her:3lf,  I  have  no  doult, 
doing  picture-galleries  and  cathedrals.  That's  tlie 


i8o  (THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

reason  we  asked  you  to  come  down  and  look  after 
Marjorie.  We  thought  that  the  dear  child's  knowl- 
edge of  geography  would  be  greatly  improved  if  she 
followed  her  mother's  tour  on  the  map  every  day, 
under  the  guidance  of  some  one  who  really  under- 
stands the  European  capitals.  The  Major  doesn't, 
and  I  haven't  time  to  come  out  here  to  look  after 
Marjorie's  education." 

Miss  Garnett  seemed  a  little  puzzled. 

"  Did  you  say  that  Marjorie  was  your  daughter  or 
your  niece?/'  she  said  to  the  Major. 

"  Niece,"  said  Meldon ;  "  but  that  makes  no  differ- 
ence. The  Major  is  just  as  fond  of  her  as  if  she 
was  his  daughter.  He  hasn't  got  a  daughter  of  his 
own,  but  I  expect  she'd  be  just  like  Marjorie  if 
he  had;  so  that  needn't  make  any  difference  to 
you." 

"  I'm  not  married,"  said  the  Major. 

Miss  Garnett,  the  teapot  in  her  hand,  looked  first 
at  one  and  then  at  the  other  of  the  two  men  in  front 
of  her.  There  flashed  across  her  mind  recollections 
of  the  appalling  stories  occasionally  composed  by 
writers  of  detective  fiction  about  lonely  ladies  decoyed 
into  remote  places  by  savage  men,  and  there  abom- 
inably murdered ;  but  it  was  impossible  to  suspect  the 
Major  of  any  such  design,  and  Meldon's  face  was  en- 
gagingly ingenuous.  She  smiled  feebly,  and  began 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  i8r 

to  pour  out  the  tea.  The  door  of  the  room  was  flung 
open,  and  Mrs.  O'Halloran  walked  in. 

"  Mary  Garry  is  just  after  coming  into  the 
kitchen,"  she  said,  "  and  telling  me  that  Miss  Mar- 
jorie  is  not  to  be  found,  high  nor  low.  I  thought  it 
only  right  for  the  Major  to  be  told  that  the  child 
has  got  lost  on  us." 

"  Keep  cool,"  said  Meldon,  "  and  avoid  excitement 
of  any  kind.  Let  Mary  Garry  go  out  and  search 
again." 

"  It  would  suit  you  better  to  go  out  and  search  for 
her  yourself,  Mr.  Meldon,  than  to  be  sitting  there 
drinking  tea  and  the  poor  little  girleen  maybe  carried 
off  by  tinkers  or  the  like.  As  for  sending  Mary 
Garry  out  again,  it  would  fail  you  to  do  that.  She's 
lying  on  the  kitchen  floor  this  minute  in  some  kind 
of  a  fit,  but  whether  it's  the  loss  of  the  child  that's 
preying  on  her,  or  the  way  you  did  be  talking  to  her 
about  them  rats  that  has  her  demented,  I  can't  say." 

"  J.  J.,"  said  the  Major,  '*we  must  go  at  once  and 
search  for  the  child." 

"Not  at  all,"  said  Meldon.  "She's  all  right. 
Send  Paudeen.  He'll  find  her." 

"You'll  not  send  Paudeen,"  said  Mrs.  O'Halloran. 

"I  will  if  I  like,"  said  Meldon;  "and  I  do  like. 
Paudeen  will  know  where  to  look  for  her.  Just  you 
despatch  him  at  once,  Mrs.  O'Halloran ;  and  then  go 


182  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

and  drag  Mary  Garry  out  into  the  yard  and  pump 
cold  water  over  her  head  until  the  fit  leaves  her." 

"You'll  not  send  Paudeen,"  said  Mrs.  O'Halloran, 
"for  he's  lost,  the  same  as  Miss  Marjorie.  Jamesy 
Deveril  has  been  stamping  up  and  down  the  yard, 
and  raising  all  sorts  and  cursing  like  the  devil  him- 
self this  last  half-hour,  and  sorra  the  sign  of  Pau- 
deen Canavan  there  is  to  be  found  about  the  place. 
Him  and  Miss  Marjorie  took  out  the  bicycle  after 
the  dinner,  and  they're  lost,  the  two  of  them." 

"  We  must  have  the  country  searched,"  said  the 
Major.  "  I'll  get  the  police.  I'll  send  Jamesy  in  to 
Gregg  this  minute,  and  tell  him  to  bring  all  his  men, 
out  here  at  once.  I'll  telegraph  for  a  detective. 
Ill " 

"  You  may,"  said  Mrs.  O'Halloran,  "  but  you'll  not 
find  them.  It's  my  belief  they're  gone  for  good ;  and 
small  blame  to  them.  You  have  the  life  frightened 
out  of  Miss  Marjorie,  the  same  as  you  have  Mary 
Garry  druv'  into  a  fit." 

She  looked  sternly  at  Meldon  as  she  spoke.  The 
Major  hurried  from  the  room  to  despatch  Jamesy  at 
full  gallop  for  the  police.  Mrs.  O'Halloran  took  no 
notice  of  his  departure.  It  wn3  Meldon,  and  not  the 
Major,  whom  she  regarded  as  the  cause  of  all  the 
misfortunes  which  had  befallen  her.  It  was  with  him 
she  meant  to  reckon. 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  183 

"  You  had  Paudeen  Canavan  beat  by  the  police  till 
he  couldn't  walk,  let  alone  leap,  with  the  bruises  there 
was  on  him,  and  him  an  orphan.  You  said  you'd 
have  rats  out  from  Doyle's  store  and  set  them  on  to 
ate  Mary  Garry,  who's  an  innocent  poor  girl  that 
isn't  accustomed  to  the  like  nor  can't  be  expected  to 
put  up  with  it.  And  you've  fetched  the  like  of  her  " 
—  she  indicated  Miss  Garnett  with  her  thumb  — 
"  down  to  Miss  Marjorie,  to  be  beating  her,  I  sup- 
pose, or  maybe  to  be  putting  rats  in  the  poor  girleen's 
bed.  Is  it  any  wonder  they're  gone,  she  and  Pau- 
deen? No;  but  the  wonder  is  that  Mary  Garry  isn't 
off  along  with  them.  If  it's  the  tinkers  has  them  — 
and  the  tinkers'll  get  them  at  the  latter  end  —  they'd 
be  better  off  than  living  in  the  house  with  the  like  of 
you."  l 

"  If  you  don't  go  back  to  the  kitchen,"  said  Mel- 
don,  "  and  attend  to  Mary  Garry,  she'll  have  all  the 
crockery  smashed  to  bits  and  herself  cut  into  rib- 
bons before  the  fit  leaves  her.  I  can  hear  her  this 
minute  kicking  plates  and  dishes  off  the  dresser/' 

"  They've  took  a  lump  of  bacon  off  the  hook  in 
the  larder,"  said  Mrs.  O'Halloran,  "  and  they've  took 
them  biscuits  that  the  Major  does  be  eating  after  his 
dinner,  and  they've  took  the  sardine  fishes  that  the  lit- 
tle lady  did  have  the  fancy  for.  And  Mary  Garry 
said  to  me  no  later  than  this  morning  that  she  couldn't 


184  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

put  her  hand  on  Miss  Marjorie's  comb  nor  her  tooth- 
brush, high  nor  low  —  so  they've  took  them  too." 

"  I'm  glad  she  took  the  tooth-brush,"  said  Meldon. 
"  It  shows  that  she's  a  real  respect  for  her  mother's 
wishes.  That  was  one  of  the  things  Mrs.  Purvis 
was  most  particular  about.  I  hope,  now,  that  she'll 
remember  to  chew  the  bacon  properly." 

The  Major  returned  breathless.  His  face  was 
white,  and  he  was  evidently  in  a  state  of  considerable 
excitement. 

"  I've  sent  off  Jamesy,"  he  said.  "  The  police  will 
be  here  in  an  hour.  In  the  meantime  what  shall  we 
do,  J.  J.?  The  child's  gone." 

"  Sit  down,  Major,  and  give  Miss  Garnett  her  tea. 
If  it  will  ease  your  mind  I'll  take  a  stroll  round  the 
place  myself.  It's  ten  to  one  they're  up  in  the  hay- 
loft or  away  off  among  the  bracken  at  the  far  end 
of  the  paddock,  eating  sardines  and  raw  bacon  and 
water-biscuits.  I'll  take  Maher-Shalal-Hash-Baz  with 
me.  He's  not  precisely  a  blood-hound,  so  I  don't  sup- 
pose it  would  be  any  use  giving  him  one  of  Mar- 
jorie's shoes  to  smell  before  we  start.  But  he  has 
the  greatest  possible  dislike  for  Paudeen  Canavan. 
Every  time  he  sees  that  boy  he  wants  to  bite  him. 
You  take  my  word  for  it,  Major,  if  they're  hid  in 
any  kind  of  hole,  the  dog  will  hunt  them  out  of  it." 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  185 

"  I'll  come  with  you,"  said  the  Major.  "  I  can't 
stay  here  and  drink  tea." 

Miss  Garnett  also  volunteered  to  join  the  search. 

"  Very  well,"  said  Meldon.  "  It  seems  to  ma  a 
pity  to  waste  the  tea,  for  I'm  perfectly  certain  that 
Mrs.  O'Halloran  won't  make  any  more  for  us.  But 
if  you  both  insist  on  coming  with  me,  we  can  do  the 
thing  systematically.  First  we'll  turn  the  key  in  the 
kitchen  door  to  keep  Mrs.  O'Halloran  and  Mary 
Garry  from  getting  out  and  tormenting  us  with  fool- 
ish talk  about  tinkers.  Then  I'll  show  you  the  way 
to  the  yard,  Miss  Garnett.  Search  the  hayloft  care- 
fully. I'll  give  you  a  pitchfork,  and  if  you  find  them 
don't  hesitate  to  give  Paudeen  a  jab  in  the  leg.  It'll 
do  him  good  and  he'll  respect  you  all  the  more  after- 
wards. Major,  you'll  do  the  kitchen  garden.  Look 
into  all  the  cucumber  and  melon  frames,  and  turn  out 
the  potting-shed.  If  they  aren't  there,  walk  slowly 
along  the  drive  and  look  up  into  every  tree  that  it's 
possible  to  climb.  Get  Marjorie  down,  if  they're  up 
a  tree,  and  then  give  a  shout  for  me,  and  we'll  all 
throw  stones  at  Paudeen.  I'll  go  off  across  the  pad- 
dock and  let  Maher-Shalal-Hash-Baz  rout  about 
among  the  bracken.  He  won't  bite  Marjorie,  but  I'll 
be  sorry  for  Paudeen  Canavan  if  he  happens  to  be 
lurking  anywhere  there." 


CHAPTER  XV 

IT  was  Miss  Garnett  who  made  the  first  discovery. 
She  satisfied  herself  that  the  fugitives  were  not 
in  the  hayloft  or  in  any  other  part  of  the  stable  build- 
ings, and  emerged  from  the  yard,  still  carrying  the 
pitchfork  which  Meldon  had  given  her,  just  as  the 
Major  completed  his  search  in  the  garden.  In  his 
nervous  anxiety  he  had  smashed  the  glass  of  two 
cucumber-frames  and  about  twenty  flower-pots 
which  were  piled  together  in  the  potting-shed,  behind 
which  he  supposed  that  Marjorie  might  possibly  be 
lurking.  He  proposed  that  he  and  Miss  Garnett 
should  each  take  one  side  of  the  drive  and  thoroughly 
examine  every  tree.  They  were  near  the  gate,  and 
almost  hopeless,  when  Miss  Garnett  made  her  discov- 
ery. Marjorie's  bicycle  was  lying  on  its  side  on  the 
grass.  The  Major  crossed  the  drive  and  looked  at  it. 
There  is  something  in  the  way  a  bicycle  lies  upon  the 
ground  which  is  eloquent  of  disaster.  Its  handle- 
bars twist  upwards  in  a  manner  very  suggestive  of 
broken  limbs.  Its  front  wheel  is  half  off  the  ground, 
and  the  top  part  of  its  rim  sticks  up  in  the  air  with  a 
curious  look  of  forlorn  despair. 

The  Major's  heart  sank  within  him. 
1 86 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  187 

"  Do  you  think  she's  dead  ? "  he  asked. 

Miss  Garnett  looked  round  her  apprehensively. 
She  was  of  a  sympathetic  disposition.  The  Major's 
despondency  conveyed  itself  to  her.  She  half-ex- 
pected to  see  a  horribly  mangled  corpse  —  perhaps 
two  corpses  —  lying  somewhere  in  the  grass.  There 
was,  in  fact,  a  shapeless  mound  half-covered  by 
brambles  in  the  shadow  of  the  wall  which  separated 
the  grounds  of  Portsmouth  Lodge  from  the  road. 
Miss  Garnett  caught  sight  of  it,  clutched  the  Major's 
arm  with  one  hand  and  pointed  with  the  other  at  the 
object  of  her  fear. 

At  that  moment  Meldon,  with  Maher-Shalal-Hash- 
Baz  at  his  heels,  appeared  at  the  far  end  of  the  drive. 
He  hailed  the  Major: 

"  Found  anything  ?  I  didn't  get  a  trace  of  them 
in  the  paddock." 

The  Major  pointed  to  the  bicycle.  Meldon  walked 
up  to  it  and  looked  it  over  carefully.  He  picked  it 
up,  twisted  it  to  and  fro,  and  felt  the  tyre  with  his 
finger. 

"  It's  all  right,"  he  said.  "  Not  even  punctured. 
Now  what  do  you  infer  from  the  discovery  of  the 
bicycle,  Major?" 

"  I  suppose  there's  been  an  accident." 

"  Quite  wrong,"  said  Meldon.  "  In  fact,  the  proper 
inference  is  the  exact  reverse  of  that.  I  should  say 


188  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

that  we  are  now  practically  certain  that  there  hasn't 
been  an  accident  —  at  all  events,  not  a  bicycle  acci- 
dent. I've  had  seventeen  bicycle  accidents  in  my 
time,  and  my  experience  is  that  the  machine  is  al- 
ways far  more  injured  than  the  rider.  Now  there's 
nothing  wrong  with  this  machine  at  all.  Therefore, 
I  think  we  may  safely  say  that  it  has  simply  been 
laid  down  in  the  place  where  we  found  it.  It  fol- 
lows that  Marjorie  can't  have  gone  off  on  it.  There- 
fore—  observe  the  simple  way  in  which  these  things 
work  themselves  out  if  you  only  treat  them  logically 
—  therefore,  she's  either  taken  one  of  the  Major's 
horses  or  else  she  has  gone  on  foot,  and  therefore 
can't  be  far  off.  Now,  has  she  taken  a  horse?  That 
ought  to  be  an  easy  matter  to  settle." 

"There  were  two  in  the  stable,"  said  Miss  Gar- 
nett,  "and  three  cows." 

"  I  saw  the  chestnut  filly  and  the  foal  in  the  pad- 
dock. I  think  that  pretty  well  completes  your  stud, 
Major,  counting  in  the  mare  that  Jamesy  took  when 
he  went  galloping  off  for  the  police.  Therefore  Mar- 
jorie hasn't  taken  a  horse,  -and  so  must  be  somewhere 
close  at  hand.  You're  sure  she's  not  in  the  garden, 
or  up  any  of  the  trees,  or  in  the  hayloft?" 

Miss  Garnett  and  the  Major  were  perfectly  certain 
that  she  could  not  have  escaped  their  search. 

"Very  well,"  said  Meldon.     "The  next  thing  to 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  189 

do  is  to  make  a  systematic  search  of  every  field 
within  a  radius  of  one  mile  of  this  house.  That  will 
take  some  time ;  but  we  may  shorten  the  business  by 
reasoning  carefully  before  we  start.  Where  would 
Marjorie  be  likely  to  go?  It  is  a  well-known  fact 
that  every  child  likes  playing  with  water  or  fire  better 
than  anything  else.  It  can't  be  fire  in  this  case,  for 
if  she  and  Paudeen  had  lit  one  we  should  see  the 
smoke.  That  reduces  us  to  water.  It  isn't  abso- 
lutely certain ;  but  I  should  say  it's  highly  probable 
that  Marjorie  has  gone  where  there  is  water.  Now 
there  is  the  sea  on  the  other  side  of  the  road,  and 
there's  the  stream  which  runs  through  Flanagan's 
farm  half  a  mile  on  beyond  this  gate.  We'll  begin 
with  the  seashore,  as  it's  the  easiest  to  examine.  If 
we  stand  on  top  of  the  wall  we  can  see  it  for  miles 
in  every  direction.  It's  perfectly  flat,  and  there  isn't 
a  rock  big  enough  to  hide  a  top-hat  the  whole  way 
along  it.  If  they're  on  the  shore  we'll  spot  them  at 
once." 

They  were  not  on  the  shore.  Miss  Garnett  —  who 
put  on  pince-nez  to  aid  her  vision  —  the  Major,  and 
Meldon  stood  in  a  row  on  top  of  the  wall  and  peered 
up  and  down  along  the  beach.  There  was  neither 
man,  woman,  nor  child  on  it.  The  Spindrift  lay 
peaceably  at  her  anchor. 

"  Now,"  said  Meldon,  "  we'll  go  off  and  trace  that 


190  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

stream  of  Flanagan's  to  its  source,  if  it  takes  us  a 
week  to  do  it.  Hullo !  Who's  this  ?  Oh,  it's  Gregg 
in  his  trap,  with  a  body  of  cavalry  after  him." 

Mr.  Gregg,  the  district  inspector  of  police,  drove 
up  at  full  speed.  Behind  him  clattered  two  mounted 
constables,  armed  with  swords  and  spurs,  and  Jamesy 
Deveril  on  a  mare  which  had  evidently  been  ridden 
hard. 

"  I  happened  to  be  in  the  barrack,"  said  Gregg, 
"  when  your  man  told  me  that  your  niece  had  been 
kidnapped  by  tinkers.  I  started  at  once  with  the 
two  mounted  men.  The  sergeant  and  three  more 
men  are  coming  after  us  on  a  car.  I  told  them  to 
bring  their  carbines.  I  left  word  for  Ford  to  come 
out  as  soon  as  he  could  so  as  to  be  ready  to  take 
depositions  and  make  out  a  warrant  for  the  arrest." 

"That's  all  right,"  said  Meldon.  "If  you  don't 
actually  bag  a  tinker  you  can  at  all  events  carry  off 
Paudeen  Canavan  under  a  strong  escort.  I  should 
say  that  the  proper  charge  to  make  against  him 
would  be  one  of  forcible  abduction  of  a  ward  in 
Chancery.  But,  of  course,  we  can't  be  sure  of  the 
circumstances  till  we  catch  them.  It's  quite  on  the 
cards  that  Marjorie  has  abducted  him." 

"  We  don't  know  what  has  happened  to  the  child," 
said  the  Major.  "  She  has  run  away,  and  we  can't 
find  her." 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  191 

Mr.  Gregg  and  his  two  troopers  seemed  a  little 
disappointed. 

A  pitched  battle  with  a  determined  band  of  mili- 
tary tinkers  would  have  broken  the  monotony  of  then- 
lives.  A  search  for  a  stray  child  was  scarcely  digni- 
fied, and  might  be  very  laborious.  It  was  not  the 
kind  of  work  which  the  police  were  accustomed  to 
undertake.  But  Major  Kent  was  a  popular  man  in 
the  neighbourhood,  and  everyone  was  anxious  to 
help  him  find  his  niece. 

"  I've  just  arrived  at  the  conclusion,"  said  Meldon, 
"  that  Marjorie  and  Paudeen  have  gone  to  the  banks 
of  the  stream  which  runs  through  Flanagan's  farm 
with  a  view  to  camping  out  for  the  night.  I'll  rea- 
son it  all  out  for  you  again  if  you  like ;  but  the  Ma- 
jor is  rather  impatient,  so  perhaps  we  had  better  get 
to  work  at  once.  My  idea,  now  that  you  have  come, 
would  be  to  let  the  mounted  men  patrol  the  two 
banks  of  the  stream,  with  a  view  to  preventing  the 
fugitives  breaking  cover  and  escaping  across  country. 
They  can  ride  down  Paudeen  Canavan  if  any  attempt 
of  the  sort  is  made ;  but,  of  course,  they  must  be  care- 
ful not  to  hurt  Marjorie.  Then  let  the  sergeant  and 
the  infantry  force  walk  up  the  stream  —  it's  quite 
shallow  —  and  examine  every  nook  and  corner.  You 
and  I,  Gregg,  will  go  up  to  the  top  of  the  hill  with 
the  Major's  telescope  and  direct  operations.  We'll 


IQ2  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

take  two  flags  with  us.  I  suppose  your  men  under- 
stand flag-signalling  thoroughly." 

The  car  with  the  sergeant  and  the  three  constables 
on  it,  drew  up  at  the  gate.  The  men  were  in  full 
marching  kit.  They  carried  their  carbines.  Their 
grey  capes  were  rolled  up  into  bulky  sausages  and 
strapped  like  bandoliers  across  their  chests.  They 
stood  rigidly  at  attention  while  Mr.  Gregg  gave  them 
their  orders. 

"  Now,  Major,"  said  Meldon.  "  You'd  better  help 
Miss  Garnett  down  off  that  wall  and  take  her  in  to 
finish  her  tea.  We  sha'n't  want  you  any  more.  If 
Miss  Garnett  will  get  Marjorie's  bed  ready  for  her,  I 
think  we'll  put  her  straight  into  it  as  soon  as  we 
catch  her.  She  won't  want  anything  more  to  eat  this 
evening.  She'll  have  had  raw  bacon,  sardines,  and 
water-biscuits.  I'm  sorry  to  give  you  so  much  trou- 
ble, Miss  Garnett.  Mrs.  O'Halloran  and  Mary  Garry 
ought  to  do  that  work;  but  I'd  be  afraid  to  let  them 
out  of  the  kitchen.  There'd  very  likely  be  a  riot  if 
they  got  loose.  I  expect  by  this  time  Mary  Garry's 
fits  will  have  turned  to  lunacy,  and  Mrs.  O'Halloran. 
will  be  foaming  at  the  mouth  with  impotent  rage. 
Now,  Major,  hop  down." 

"  I'll  go  with  the  police  up  the  stream,"  said  the 
Major.  "  I'd  like  to  know  the  worst  as  soon  as  pos- 
sible." 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  193 

"  Yes,  do,"  said  Miss  Garnett.  "  I  don't  want  any 
tea,  really.  I'll  have  everything  ready  for  the  poor 
child  when  you  bring  her  home." 

"  Her  room,"  said  Meldon,  "  is  next  yours.  It's 
the  only  other  room  on  that  side  of  the  passage,  so 
you  can't  make  a  mistake  about  it." 

Major  Kent's  telescope  was  a  heavy  instrument, 
mounted  on  a  tripod  stand.  It  took  Meldon  and 
Gregg  some  time  to  get  it  up  the  hill.  The  search- 
party  had  already  commenced  operations  when  they 
reached  the  top.  Meldon,  who  took  the  first  look  at 
the  scene,  was  just  in  time  to  see  Flanagan,  the 
farmer,  bolt  into  his  cabin  and  shut  the  door,  when 
the  police  marched  into  his  field. 

"  I  expect,"  said  Meldon,  "  that  he  thinks  you're 
going  to  evict  him.  What  a  relief  it  will  be  to  his 
mind  when  he  ventures  out  after  a  while  and  finds 
that  you're  not.  I  daresay  he  and  his  wife  are  piling 
up  all  their  furniture  against  the  door  at  the  present 
moment,  intending  to  resist  you  to  their  last  gasp. 
That's  the  worst  of  being  a  policeman  in  this  country. 
Nobody  will  believe  that  your  intentions  are  benevo- 
lent, even  when  you  don't  want  to  do  any  harm  to 
anybody." 

Gregg!  put  his  eye  to  the  telescope  and,  after  watch- 
ing his  men  for  a  while,  swept  the  instrument  round 
and  took  a  comprehensive  survey  of  the  whole  neigh- 


I94  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

bourhood.  With  the  telescope  pointed  at  the  sea,  he 
suddenly  paused. 

"Look  here,  Meldon,"  he  said.  "What's  that  a 
couple  of  miles  out  in  the  bay?" 

Gregg's  tone  was  serious.  He  gripped  Meldon 
tightly  by  the  arm  and  bade  him  look  through  the 
telescope. 

"  There's  a  small  boat  —  a  punt  —  out  there,"  said 
Meldon,  "  and,  as  far  as  I  can  make  out,  there's  no- 
body in  her.  The  wind's  off  shore,  and  she's  drifting 
out  to  sea." 

"Good  God!"  said  Gregg.  "It  must  be  Kent's 
punt,  and  the  child  has  fallen  out  of  her  and  been 
drowned." 

"  Don't  get  excited,"  said  Meldon.  "  And  don't 
leap  at  conclusions  in  that  way.  We're  not  certain 
yet  that  that's  the  Major's  punt;  and  if  it  is  we've 
no  reason  to  suppose  that  the  child  went  out  in  her. 
Even  if  she  did,  she  may  be  in  her  still.  She  may  be 
lying  asleep  at  the  bottom,  and  we  couldn't  see 
her." 

"  Come  down  at  once,"  said  Gregg,  "  and  let's  see 
if  the  punt  is  on  the  shore." 

"  All  right.  We  may  as  well  go  down  as  stay  here 
on  the  top  of  this  hill.  But  let's  go  quietly.  The 
great  thing,  on  these  occasions,  is  to  avoid  all  un- 
necessary fuss.  What  a  blessing  it  is  that  the  Major 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  195 

is  quietly  paddling  up  Flanagan's  stream!  If  he'd 
seen  that  boat  he'd  be  a  raging  lunatic." 

On  the  way  down  the  hill  Meldon  gave  his  reasons 
for  not  feeling  any  anxiety  about  Marjorie. 

"That  young  scamp,  Paudeen  Canavan,  has  gone 
with  her,"  he  said,  "  and  wherever  the  one  of  them  is 
the  other  will  be.  It's  ridiculous  to  suppose  that 
Paudeen  could  possibly  be  drowned.  Boys  of  that 
sort  never  are.  They're  like  fleas.  You  might  hold 
one  under  water  for  five  minutes  and  it  would  come 
up  smiling  afterwards.  If  Paudeen's  safe,  we  may 
assume  that  Marjorie  is  too.  After  all,  the  punt  may 
be  in  its  place  on  the  shore." 

It  was  not.  The  marks  of  its  keel  were  visible  for 
several  yards  in  the  sand.  On  the  stones  beside  the 
place  where  the  punt  usually  lay  was  a  half-empty 
package  of  kitchen  salt.  Meldon  stared  at  it. 

"They've  been  here,"  he  said,  "and  they've  gone 
off  in  the  punt.  What's  more,  they've  left  some  of 
their  provisions  behind  them.  That  package  is  one 
of  the  things  Mrs.  O'Halloran  mentioned  as  being 
lost.  If  ever  I  get  hold  of  Paudeen  Canavan  I'll 
skin  him  and  rub  that  salt  in  afterwards." 

"Where's  the  nearest  boat?"  said  Gregg.  "We 
must  go  after  the  punt  at  once." 

"  I  don't  believe  there's  a  boat  between  this  and 
Ballymoy,"  said  Meldon. 


iQ6  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

"  I'll  send  one  of  the  mounted  men  off  to  the  coast- 
guard station,"  said  Gregg.  "That  will  be  the 
quickest." 

"That  will  take  hours,"  said  Meldon.  "And,  be- 
sides, any  attempt  to  communicate  with  the  police 
will  bring  the  Major  down  on  us.  The  thing  for  us 
to  do  is  to  swim  off  to  the  Spindrift  and  go  after 
them  in  her.  Could  you  swim  that  far  in  your 
trousers  and  shirt  ?  " 

"  I  could,  of  course." 

"  Very  well.  Come  on.  We'll  get  the  mainsail  on 
her,  and  we'll  have  that  punt  in  half  an  hour.  It's 
far  quicker  than  sending  to  the  coastguards,  and  it'll 
make  less  fuss.  I  wouldn't  ask  you  to  do  the  swim 
in  your  clothes,  only  that  we've  both  of  us  got  more 
or  less  of  a  position  to  keep  up,  and  it  wouldn't  suit 
us  to  go  sailing  a  yacht  about  the  bay  stark  naked. 
We'd  look  rather  fools  coming  ashore  afterwards; 
particularly  if  Marjorie  is  in  Flanagan's  fields  after 
all.  Of  course,  there  may  be  a  suit  of  oilskins  on 
board,  but  it  wouldn't  do  to  count  on  that  for  certain ; 
and  I  don't  fancy  myself  making  a  public  appearance 
draped  in  a  spinnaker." 

Gregg  had  his  coat  and  boots  off  before  Meldon 
had  finished  speaking,  and  was  up  to  his  knees  in 
water. 

"Wait  a  minute,"  said  Meldon.    "I'm  not  quite 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  197 

ready  yet.  I  won't  keep  you  long;  but  I  see  Maher- 
Shalal-Hash-Baz  coming  across  the  field,  and  I  must 
throw  a  few  stones  at  him  to  drive  him  off.  He's 
not  a  water  dog,  and  he'd  only  make  a  nuisance  of 
himself  trying  to  swim  after  us  to  the  yacht.  Any- 
how, you  can't  do  anything  without  me ;  so  there's  no 
use  going  off  by  yourself.  It's  not  at  all  easy  to  get 
into  a  ten-ton  boat  from  the  water  when  there's  no- 
body on  board  to  help  you.  The  only  chance  is  over 
the  anchor-chain.  You'd  better  let  me  have  the  first 
try  at  it.  If  I  get  in  I'll  drop  a  bight  of  rope  over- 
board for  you." 

They  swam  out  together.  Meldon  gripped  the 
anchor-chain  with  both  hands  and  twined  his  legs 
round  it  under  water.  Then  he  attempted  to  swarm 
up  it.  The  yacht  was  dragged  forward  by  his  weight 
and  her  curved  bow  hung  over  him.  He  sank,  pulled 
down  by  the  slackened  chain ;  but  he  came  to  the  sur- 
face again  and  gripped  the  chain  higher  up.  A  puff 
of  wind  swung  the  yacht  back  from  her  moorings, 
tightening  the  chain  and  lifting  his  head  and  shoul- 
ders clear  of  the  water.  Again  the  Spindrift  surged 
forward,  and  again  Meldon  was  plunged  under  water. 
Three  times  the  manoeuvre  was  repeated,  and  each 
time  Meldon  got  a  grip  higher  on  the  chain,  At 
length  he  grabbed  the  gunwale  with  one  hand  and 
scrambled  on  board  over  the  bow.  He  seized  the 


198  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

throat  halyard,  which  lay  in  a  coil  beside  the  mast, 
and  flung  a  bight  of  it  overboard  to  Gregg.  A  cou- 
ple of  minutes  afterwards  the  two  men  stood  drip- 
ping and  breathless  on  the  deck. 

"  Now,"  said  Meldon,  "  get  the  cover  off  the  main- 
sail." 

Gregg  ran  aft,  and  began  to  loose  the  lashing  of 
the  sail-cover.  Suddenly  he  stood  still. 

"  By  Jove ! "  he  said.  "  There's  somebody  on 
board.  It  must  be  the  children.  I  hear  one  of  them 
crying  in  the  cabin." 

As  he  spoke  Marjorie  put  her  head  up  through  the 
fore-hatch  and  confronted  Meldon. 

"  Oh,  J.  J.,"  she  said.  "  It's  you.  I  knew  it 
wasn't  anyone  who'd  do  us  any  harm.  But  Paudeen 
said  it  was  the  police  come  to  take  us  to  prison,  and 
he  began  to  cry." 

"  Paudeen  was  perfectly  right,"  said  Meldon. 
"  That  damp  gentleman  standing  near  the  stern  of 
the  boat  is  a  policeman,  though  he  doesn't  look  like 
one  at  present.  He'll  take  Paudeen  straight  to  prison 
and  feed  him  on  bread  and  water  and  the  cat-o'-nine 
tails.  What  on  earth  are  you  doing  here,  Marjorie  ?  " 

"  Just  living,"  said  Marjorie  calmly.  "  We  thought 
it  would  be  nice  to  come  out  here  to  live.  We 
brought  plenty  of  food  with  us,  and  we're  going  to 
sleep  with  all  our  clothes  on  in  the  two  funny  little 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  199 

beds  which  fold  up.  We've  got  them  unfolded. 
Uncle  John  told  me  how  to  do  it  one  evening." 

"  As  soon  as  ever  I  get  you  ashore,"  said  Meldon, 
"  you'll  go  straight  to  your  ordinary  bed  in  a  nice 
white  nightdress.  We  got  a  governess  for  you  to^ 
day,  and  she's  waiting  for  you  now.  I  shall  advise 
her  to  tie  a  rope  round  your  waist  and  fasten  the 
other  end  of  it  to  the  leg  of  the  dining-room  table. 
Your  unfortunate  uncle  is  at  this  moment  up  to  his 
knees  in  a  cold  stream,  tearing  out  the  remainder  of 
his  hair  in  handfuls.  Mary  Garry  has  got  a  fit  and 
is  lying  on  the  kitchen  floor.  Mrs.  O'Halloran  is  to 
be  taken  to  the  lunatic  asylum  this  evening,  and  the 
Royal  Irish  Constabulary  are  quartering  Flanagan's 
fields  like  red  setter  dogs  on  August  12.  What  have 
you  to  say  for  yourself?" 

"  I  thought  you'd  be  sensible,  J.  J.,"  said  Marjorie 
— "  even  if  all  the  rest  were  silly." 


CHAPTER  XVI 

44  T  J-»"  said  Gregg,  who  stood  dripping  at  the 
J  •  stern  of  the  yacht,  "  what  do  you  mean  to  do 
about  going  ashore  ?  " 

"  We'll  row  ashore  in  the  punt  as  soon  as  we've 
picked  her  up.  Get  the  cover  off  the  mainsail." 

"  Oh,  rot !  We  can't  go  sailing  about  the  bay 
soaked  to  the  skin  when  there's  no  need." 

"  There  is  need.  The  Major's  valuable  punt  is 
adrift.  Besides,  Marjorie  would  like  a  sail.  Would- 
n't you,  Marjorie?" 

"  I'm  not  sure,"  said  Marjorie.  "  Would  Uncle 
John  be  vexed  ?  " 

"  As  a  matter  of  fact,"  said  Meldon,  "  I  expect  he 
would.  But  I'm  surprised  at  your  thinking  of  that. 
You  haven't  shown  much  consideration  for  his  feel- 
ings so  far." 

"  I  see  a  trap  coming  along  the  road  from  Bally- 
moy,"  said  Gregg.  "  I  expect  it's  Ford.  When  he 
gets  near  enough  we'll  shout  and  tell  him  to  send  for 
a  boat  to  take  us  ashore." 

"All  right,"  said  Meldon,  "we'll  howl,  howl  for 
all  we're  worth.  I'll  say  one,  two,  three,  go,  and 
we'll  all  three  howl  together  as  much  as  possible  on 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  201 

the  same  note.  Or,  wait  a  minute,  why  should  we 
make  ourselves  hoarse  when  we  needn't?  We'll  have 
up  Paudeen  Canavan  and  make  him  howl.  I'll  lash 
him  to  the  starboard  runner  with  his  face  towards 
the  shore  and  you  shall  wallop  him,  Gregg,  with  the 
end  of  the  mainsheet,  carefully  knotted.  In  that  way 
we'll  kill  two  birds  —  in  fact  three  birds  —  with  one 
stone.  Paudeen  will  get  what  he  richly  deserves; 
Ford's  attention  will  be  attracted  without  our  giving 
ourselves  sore  throats;  and  the  exercise  will  keep  you 
from  catching  cold.  Go  down  and  fetch  up  the  pris- 
oner, Gregg.  If  he  doesn't  come  at  once,  we'll  have 
it  in  for  him  to-morrow  for  resisting  arrest." 

"  Please,  J.  J.,"  said  Marjorie,  "  don't  beat  poor 
Paudeen." 

"  I  will  beat  him,"  said  Meldon.  "  At  least,  I'll  set 
on  Mr.  Gregg  to  beat  him,  and  if  he  tires  I'll  take  a 
turn  myself." 

"  If  you  hit  Paudeen,"  said  Marjorie,  "  I'll  jump 
straight  into  the  sea  and  be  drowned." 

Meldon  looked  at  her.  There  were  tears  —  tears 
of  passion,  not  of  sorrow  —  in  her  eyes.  He  realised 
that  Marjorie  had  a  temper,  and  was  quite  capable 
of  desperate  deeds  when  it  was  roused. 

"Do  you  mean  to  say,  Marjorie,  that  it  wouldn't 
be  a  pleasure  to  you  to  see  Paudeen  walloped,  and 
to  listen  to  his  yells?" 


202  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

Marjorie  clenched  her  fists  and  rushed  at  Meldon. 
She  succeeded  in  striking  him  three  or  four  times  and 
then  glared  at  him  ferociously. 

"All  right,  Marjorie.  If  you'll  stop  beating  me 
I'll  let  Paudeen  off.  There,  I  promise  he  sha'n't  be 
touched.  Honour  bright." 

Marjorie's  rage  vanished  as  quickly  as  it  had  been 
aroused.  She  took  Meldon's  hand  again.  Gregg, 
dragging  the  extremely  unwilling  Paudeen  by  the 
collar  of  the  coat,  came  on  deck. 

"Prisoner  at  the  bar,"  said  Meldon,  "you  have 
been  recommended  to  mercy  by  the  jury  —  you  are 
the  jury,  Marjorie.  You  deserve  to  be  beaten,  but 
you  won't  be  beaten  if  you  howl  in  a  satisfactory 
manner.  If  you  simply  whimper  or  shriek  in  any 
way  that  isn't  distinctly  audible  on  shore  —  I  suppose 
if  he  won't  howl,  Marjorie,  you've  no  objection  to  my 
giving  him  a  whack  or  two  just  to  start  him  off." 

"  Please,  Paudeen,  howl,"  said  Marjorie ;  "  I'll 
help  you." 

Paudeen  stood,  a  picture  of  blind  terror,  in  front 
of  Gregg.  His  eyes,  red  from  his  weeping  in  the 
cabin,  were  fixed  apprehensively  on  Meldon.  He 
evidently  did  not  in  the  least  understand  what  was 
said  to  him. 

"  Now,  then,"  said  Meldon,  "  it's  your  only  chance. 
Yell,  shriek,  shout,  scream,  bellow,  sing  if  you  pre- 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  203 

fer  it;  it  will  come  to  much  the  same  thing.  Make 
any  kind  of  noise  you  like  that  will  be  heard  on 
shore." 

Paudeen  stood  sulkily  silent. 

"  It's  no  use,"  said  Meldon.  "  The  boy's  gone 
stupid.  Marjorie,  I  believe  you've  been  ill-treating 
him  in  some  perfectly  frightful  manner;  you've  bul- 
lied the  sense  out  of  him.  We'll  have  to  do  the 
shouting  ourselves  after  all.  Now  then  —  one,  two, 
three  —  yell !  " 

A  loud  cry,  discordant,  terrifying,  swept  across  the 
water.  Mr.  Ford's  horse  shied  violently.  A  distant 
mounted  policeman  turned  in  his  saddle,  stared  at  the 
yacht,  and  began  to  gallop  across  the  field  in  which 
he  was  stationed.  Flanagan,  the  fear  of  immediate 
eviction  forgotten  in  amazement,  emerged  from  the 
door  of  his  cabin  followed  by  his  wife.  Major  Kent, 
the  sergeant,  and  three  constables  climbed  out  of  the 
river-bed  and  ran  towards  the  shore.  Down  the 
drive  from  Portsmouth  Lodge  came  Miss  Garnett, 
Mrs.  O'Halloran,  and  Mary  Garry.  They  ran  as  if 
they  were  engaged  in  a  race  for  some  immensely  de- 
sirable prize.  They  kept  together  for  about  thirty 
yards,  then  Mrs.  O'Halloran  dropped  behind. 

"I'll  back  Mary  Garry,"  said  Meldon.  "When 
they  get  to  the  wall  she'll  take  the  lead.  There! 
didn't  I  say  so?" 


204  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

Mary  Garry  'climbed  the  obstacle  with  marvellous 
agility,  and  with  a  flying  leap  cleared  the  ditch  and 
landed  on  the  road.  Miss  Garnett  mismanaged  her 
petticoats,  and  remained  tangled  and  helpless  till 
Jamesy  Deveril,  rushing  from  the  gate  lodge,  rescued 
her. 

"  That's  your  new  governess,  Marjorie,"  said  Mel- 
don.  "  She  doesn't  show  up  very  well  in  an  obstacle 
race.  You'll  have  a  hold  over  her  from  this  on. 
Whenever  she  turns  nasty  over  an  irregular  French 
verb  or  anything  of  that  sort,  all  you've  got  to  do  is 
to  offer  her  any  odds  she  doesn't  beat  Mary  Garry 
over  wire  fences  and  stone  walls." 

The  runners  gathered  in  a  group  on  the  shore. 
The  mounted  police,  in  the  excitement  of  the  moment, 
even  forced  their  horses  into  the  water. 

"  Get  a  boat !  "  shouted  Meldon. 

A  babel  of  cries  answered  him.  Everyone  on  shore 
wanted  to  understand  the  position  of  affairs. 

"  Get  a  boat !  "  shouted  Meldon  again.  "  I  can't 
and  won't  explain  things  at  the  top  of  my  voice  when 
I  haven't  a  dry  stitch  on  me." 

There  was  a  hurried  consultation  on  the  beach. 
Then  the  two  mounted  police  went  galloping,  one 
eastwards  towards  Ballymoy,  the  other  westwards  to 
see  if  a  boat  could  be  found  more  quickly  in  that  di- 
rection. 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  205 

"  That's  all  right,"  said  Meldon.  "  Now  we've 
nothing  to  do  but  sit  down  and  be  as  comfortable  as 
we  can  for  the  next  hour.  I  vote  we  go  below,  light 
the  galley  stove,  and  fry  Marjorie's  bacon.  I  sup- 
pose you  haven't  finished  the  bacon,  have  you,  Mar- 
jorie?" 

"  No.  We  didn't  eat  any  bacon.  We  only  ate  the 
sardines  and  some  of  the  biscuits  and  the  cake.  We'll 
have  the  bacon  now,  and  I'll  cook  it  when  you  have 
lit  the  fire." 

"  I  say,  Gregg,"  said  Meldon,  as  he  poured  paraffin 
oil  over  the  coals,  "  it's  just  as  well  I  insisted  on  your 
keeping  on  your  shirt  and  trousers  for  the  swim, 
wasn't  it?  There's  rather  a  large  audience  on  shore. 
You  wouldn't  have  cared  to  face  Mary  Garry  and  the 
new  governess  with  any  less  on  you  than  you  have  at 
present." 

Even  Paudeen  was  admitted  to  the  feast  which  fol- 
lowed. There  were  two  slices  of  bacon  and  four 
water-biscuits  for  each  member  of  the  party.  Mar- 
jorie's happiness  was  complete  when  Meldon  lit  the 
swinging  lamp. 

"  I  suppose,"  he  said,  "  you  didn't  bring  any  to- 
bacco with  you,  Marjorie,  or  a  few  of  your  Uncle 
John's  cigars?  No!  Well,  it  can't  be  helped.  But 
if  ever  you  go  off  on  a  yachting  cruise  again  bring 
some  tobacco.  Even  if  you  and  Paudeen  don't  smoke 


206  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

yourselves,  you  ought  to  have  some  on  board.  You 
never  know  who  may  drop  in  on  you  unexpectedly. 
Now,  Gregg-,  an  evening  of  this  sort  is  not  complete 
without  music.  Marjorie  would  like  to  hear  you 
sing.  As  an  officer  in  one  of  the  armed  forces  of 
the  Empire  the  most  appropriate  thing  you  could  give 
would  be  '  Rule,  Britannia.'  After  that,  Paudeen, 
who  is  a  strong  Nationalist,  will  give  us  'God  save 
Ireland.'  Then,  as  neither  I  nor  Marjorie  sing,  we'll 
talk  politics.  We'll  have  a  regular  debate.  'Will 
tariff  reform  be  beneficial  to  the  cause  of  the  Irish 
language  in  the  new  University  ? '  and  '  Ought  the 
advocates  of  women's  suffrage  to  support  the  German 
Emperor  ? '  The  affirmative  in  each  case  will  be 
moved  by  Mr.  Gregg,  D.I.,  R.I.C. ;  the  negative  by 
Mr.  Paudeen  Canavan.  The  chair  will  be  taken  by 
Miss  Marjorie  Purvis.  Hullo!  They're  shouting  at 
us  from  the  shore.  I  expect  the  coastguard  boat  has 
turned  up.  Now,  Marjorie,  when  you  step  ashore 
carry  yourself  with  dignity.  Recollect  that  you  are 
the  heroine  of  a  most  exciting  adventure  —  a  thing 
which  will  be  talked  of  in  Ballymoy  when  the  hair 
of  our  children's  children  is  turning  grey.  Paudeen, 
you  will  sit  in  the  bow  of  the  boat  and  whistle  a 
funeral  march  of  some  sort  —  Chopin's  for  choice  — 
to  give  an  air  of  solemnity  to  the  proceedings. 
Here's  the  boat !  Hold  your  head  up,  Gregg,  and  try 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  207 

to  look  as  if  you  had  all  your  clothes  on  and  weren't 
catching  your  death  of  cold.  Marjorie,  the  Lord 
Lieutenant's  wife  won't  have  half  the  chance  of  show- 
ing herself  off  next  Tuesday  that  you  are  going  to 
have  now ;  so  make  the  most  of  it." 

A  loud  cheer  from  the  shore  greeted  the  party  as 
they  stepped  into  the  boat.  Meldon  took  one  of  the 
Spindrift's  flags  in  his  hand,  stood  in  the  stern,  and 
waved  it.  The  coastguards,  inspired  by  the  moving 
scene,  pulled  briskly.  Meldon's  advice  to  Marjorie 
was  unfortunately  wasted.  She  had  no  opportunity 
of  behaving  with  dignity.  As  the  boat  grounded, 
Mrs.  O'Halloran  and  Mary  Garry  rushed  into  the 
water  and  seized  the  child.  Between  them  they  car- 
ried her  ashore.  They,  Miss  Garnett,  Jamesy  Dev- 
eril's  wife,  Flanagan's  wife,  and  nine  strange  chil- 
dren, who  had  gathered  to  the  scene  as  mysteriously 
as  vultures  to  a  battlefield,  formed  a  group  round 
Marjorie,  repelling  the  Major,  who  wanted  to  sat- 
isfy himself  that  his  niece  was  really  safe.  Maher- 
Shalal-Hash-Baz  yelped  with  frenzied  delight  at  the 
return  of  his  master.  He  also  succeeded  in  biting 
the  heel  of  a  policeman's  boot  and  tearing  a  long  hole 
in  the  leg1  of  Paudeen  Cana van's  trousers.  Major 
Kent,  driven  from  the  neighbourhood  of  Marjorie, 
wrung  the  hands  of  Meldon  and  Gregg,  and  then 
tipped  everybody  who  could  be  tipped,  includ- 


208  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

ing  Flanagan  the  farmer,  with  the  utmost  liberality. 

"  I'm  glad  to  see,"  said  Meldon,  "  that  you've  got 
over  that  fit  you  had,  Mary  Garry.  Perhaps  next 
time  I  tell  you  to  bring  tea  into  the  drawing-room 
you'll  bring  it  without  arguing." 

"Let  the  girl  be,"  said  Mrs.  O'Halloran. 
"  Haven't  you  had  your  'nough  of  mischief -making 
for  one  day?  Or  do  you  want  to  drive  her  off  into 
hysterics  again  ?  " 

"  Miss  Garnett,"  said  Meldon,  "  I  suppose  it  was 
you  who  let  Mrs.  O'Halloran  out  of  the  kitchen, 
where  I  had  her  locked  up  safe.  I  don't  blame  you, 
for  I'm  sure  you  meant  kindly;  but  when  you  know 
her  better  you'll  wish  you  hadn't  been  so  foolish." 

Mrs.  O'Halloran  and  Miss  Garnett  had  evidently 
become  fast  friends.  Neither  of  them  took  any  no- 
tice of  what  Meldon  said.  They  took  Marjorie  by 
her  hands,  each  holding  one  of  them,  and  led  her  up 
towards  the  house.  Mary  Garry  and  the  other  two 
women  followed,  all  of  them  weeping-  with  excite- 
ment and  joy.  The  nine  children,  their  curiosity 
about  Marjorie  more  or  less  satisfied,  remained  on 
the  shore  to  watch  Meldon  and  Gregg  put  on  their 
clothes. 

Major  Kent  hospitably  asked  Meldon,  Gregg,  and 
Ford  to  dinner.  Meldon  alone  accepted  the  invita- 
tion. Gregg  pleaded  a  desire  for  dry  clothes,  and 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  209 

declined  to  accept  the  Major's  offer  of  a  suit.  Ford 
said  that  his  own  dinner  was  waiting  for  him  at  home. 
Both  of  them  wanted  to  have  the  satisfaction  of  be- 
ing the  first  to  tell  the  news  of  the  adventure  to  their 
wives. 

Meldon,  dressed  in  the  suit  of  the  Major's  clothes 
which  had  been  offered  to  Gregg,  complained  of  hun- 
ger. There  seemed  to  be  little  chance  of  getting  any- 
thing to  eat.  Mrs.  O'Halloran  had  not  so  much  as 
boiled  a  potato  during  the  afternoon,  and  flatly  de- 
clined to  attempt  any  kind  of  cookery.  She  and  Miss 
Garnett  sat  in  Marjorie's  room.  They  discussed  the 
day's  proceedings  till  the  child  went  to  sleep,  and 
then  continued  to  discuss  them  in  whispers.  Mary 
Garry  flitted  rapidly  in  and  out  of  the  room  until 
Mrs.  O'Halloran  sternly  forbade  her  to  venture  up- 
stairs again.  She  then  retired  into  the  yard  and  fed 
Paudeen  Canavan  on  cold  beef  and  soda-bread. 
Meldon,  driven  to  desperation  by  want  of  food, 
caught  her  in  the  act.  He  rescued  the  beef,  and  suc- 
ceeded, after  raiding  the  larder  and  the  store-room, 
in  gathering,  other  materials  for  a  meal. 

With  satisfied  appetite  he  and  Major  Kent  retired 
to  the  study  and  shut  the  door. 

"  I  shall  telegraph  to-morrow  morning  for  Mar- 
garet," said  the  Major.  "  I  can't  stand  the  respon- 
sibility of  taking  charge  of  that  child  any  longer." 


210  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

"  I  daresay  you're  sorry  now,"  said  Meldon,  "  that 
you  didn't  invite  my  little  girl  when  I  suggested  it. 
She'd  have  looked  after  Marjorie,  and  all  this 
wouldn't  have  happened." 

"  I  shall  telegraph  for  Margaret  to-morrow,"  said 
the  Major  stubbornly. 

"  You  may  telegraph  if  you  like ;  but  if  you  do, 
you'll  simply  infuriate  your  sister,  who  won't  a  bit 
like  being  dragged  away  from  the  European  capitals, 
and  you  won't  be  any  nearer  getting  out  of  the  very 
awkward  position  you're  in  now.  I  don't  know,  Ma- 
jor, whether  you  quite  realise  what  you've  done,  but 
you  and  Marjorie  will  figure  in  every  paper  in  the 
United  Kingdom  in  the  course  of  the  next  three 
days." 

"  Nonsense." 

"  It's  not  nonsense.  Here  you've  had  the  entire 
police  force  of  this  part  of  the  county  turned  out  in 
full  uniform,  with  their  officer  at  their  head.  You've 
had  a  Resident  Magistrate  ready  to  administer  any 
Act  of  Parliament  you  chose  to  ask  for.  You've  had 
four  coastguards,  commanded  by  their  officer  with 
brass  buttons  on  his  coat,  rowing  long  distances  in  a 
large  black  boat  —  a  boat  that  belongs  to  the  British 
Navy.  You  couldn't  have  made  more  fuss  if  the 
Germans  and  the  Russians  together  had  attacked 
Portsmouth  Lodge  in  fire-balloons.  You  can't  do 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  211 

that  kind  of  thing  and  expect  to  keep  it  quiet  after- 
wards." 

"  Nonsense,"  said  the  Major.  "  Who'd  write  to  the 
papers?  I  sha'n't.  Ford  won't.  Nor  will  Gregg. 
I  don't  suppose  you  will." 

"  I'll  tell  you  who'll  write.  Doyle's  nephew.  He's 
already  done  a  long  account  of  the  Lord  Lieutenant's 
visit  for  the  Dublin  papers.  He  expects  to  make  at 
least  thirty  shillings  out  of  it.  Now  if  a  function  of 
that  kind  —  a  thing  which  occurs  practically  every 
week  during  the  first  year  any  Lord  Lieutenant  is  in 
Ireland  —  if  it's  worth  thirty  bob,  what  do  you  sup- 
pose the  papers  will  pay  for  a  really  exciting  thing 
like  this?  I  don't  know,  of  course;  but  I  should  say 
not  less  than  five  pounds.  Do  you  suppose  that 
Doyle's  nephew  will  let  an  opportunity  of  the  kind 
slip?  Not  he.  He  wouldn't  be  Doyle's  nephew  if  he 
did.  He's  round  at  the  police  barrack  this  minute,  I 
expect,  interviewing  the  sergeant  and  picking  up  pic- 
turesque details  from  the  men.  When  he's  got  all 
he  can  out  of  them  he'll  go  on  to  the  Coastguard  sta- 
tion. He's  sure  to  do  a  paragraph  about  you  as  a 
grief-stricken  uncle,  overwhelmed  by  a  sudden  and 
totally  unexpected  calamity.  He'll  work  in  Mary 
Garry  and  Mrs.  O'Halloran.  He'll  trace  out  Olivia's 
antecedents  and  describe  her  personal  appearance. 
He'll  telegraph  the  whole  thing  to-night  at  about  nine 


212  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

o'clock,  so  as  to  have  it  in  good  time  for  the  Dublin 
papers  to-morrow  morning.  The  English  press  will 
copy  it  the  next  day." 

"  I  don't  believe,"  said  the  Major,  "  that  the  news- 
papers will  print  a  rigmarole  of  that  sort.  What  on 
earth  interest  would  the  public  take  in  a  little  girl 
going  for  a  picnic  to  a  yacht?" 

"That  won't  be  the  point  at  all,"  said  Meldon. 
"If  there  was  nothing  more  than  that  the  papers 
wouldn't  so  much  as  say  'Thank  you'  to  Doyle's 
nephew.  The  real  value  of  the  story  lies  in  your 
ridiculous  behaviour;  in  the  summoning  of  a  small 
army  of  police  and  coastguards  to  rescue  a  child  who 
was  perfectly  safe  all  the  time." 

"Let  them  print  what  they  like,"  said  the  Major 
desperately.  "  It  won't  matter  to  me  if  they  choose 
to  make  fools  of  themselves.  But,  of  course,  they 
won't.  Even  if  the  Dublin  papers  mention  the  mat- 
ter, they'll  say  very  little  about  it;  and  no  other  pa- 
per will  copy  them/' 

"Won't  they?  Just  you  wait  and  see.  This  is 
the  month  of  August,  and  Parliament  isn't  sitting. 
There's  hardly  a  single  politician  in  the  whole  coun- 
try making  a  speech,  even  on  a  Sunday.  They're  all 
playing  golf.  The  wretched  reporters  are  wandering 
about  with  notebooks  in  their  hands,  driven  to  des- 
peration for  the  want  of  something  to  write  about. 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  313 

They  have  motor-car  accidents  and  '  Sad  fatalities 
while  bathing'  stuck  into  the  most  prominent  places 
in  their  papers.  They'll  be  down  on  you  in  swarms. 
The  first  one  will  arrive  in  all  probability  the  day 
after  to-morrow,  and  from  that  on  you  won't  have  a 
quiet  hour.  If  I  were  you  I'd  get  Paudeen  and  Mar- 
jorie  and  yourself  photographed  in  a  group.  Leave 
a  couple  of  hundred  copies  of  the  picture  at  the  gate 
lodge,  and  tell  Jamesy  Deveril  to  give  one  to  each 
man  who  comes  to  see  you.  You  might  stave  off  the 
worst  of  them  that  way." 

"  I  shall  telegraph  to  Margaret,"  said  the  Major. 
"  She's  in  Vienna  now.  She  might  be  here  on  Mon- 
day or  Tuesday  if  she  started  at  once." 


CHAPTER  XVII 

MAJOR  KENT  spent  an  uneasy  night.  He 
slept  fitfully,  and  awoke  more  than  once  with 
a  violent  start.  At  five  o'clock  in  the  morning  sleep 
departed  from  him  altogether.  He  lay  wide  awake 
and  stared  at  the  ceiling,  while  the  most  annoying 
thoughts  fastened  on  his  brain  and  gnawed  at  it.  He 
did  not  really  believe  that  Marjorie's  adventure  would 
become  a  newspaper  sensation,  but  every  word  that 
Meldon  had  said  came  back  to  him  in  the  early  morn- 
ing decked  in  an  appalling  garment  of  plausibility. 
He  already  saw  the  leaded  headlines  and  his  own- 
name  figuring  in  enormous  type.  He  reasoned  with 
himself,  but  at  five  o'clock  in  the  morning  the  most 
hard-headed  man  reasons  with  himself  in  vain. 
Bankruptcy,  at  that  hour,  seems  to  most  of  us  in- 
evitable ;  public  disgrace  of  the  most  abominable  kind 
hangs  by  a  frayed  thread  over  our  heads ;  our  wives 
and  children  have  ceased  to  love  us ;  our  home  is  des- 
olate; our  future  hopeless.  From  the  hideous  pros- 
pect of  newspaper  publicity  the  Major's  thoughts 
turned  to  other  worries.  He  felt  himself  entirely 
incapable  of  dealing  with  Marjorie.  He  did  not  be- 
lieve that  Miss  Garnett  or  anyone  else  could  control 
314 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  215 

her.  She  had  escaped  two  perils  —  the  peril  of  wild 
horses  and  the  peril  of  the  sea.  The  next  thing,  no 
doubt,  would  be  fire.  Portsmouth  Lodge  would  blaze 
suddenly,  unaccountably.  Marjorie's  charred  re- 
mains, with  those  of  Miss  Garnett,  Mrs.  O'Halloran, 
Mary  Garry,  and  Paudeen  would  be  discovered  among 
the  ruins.  The  Major  himself  would  escape  unwill- 
ingly and  go  through  life  afterwards  a  stricken  man, 
receiving  by  every  post  the  intolerable  reproaches  of 
his  sister  Margaret. 

The  devils  who  manipulate  the  tortures  of  the 
wakeful  man  at  dawn  are  swift  and  versatile.  They 
pack  into  an  hour  such  mental  suffering  that  their 
victim  believes  himself  to  have  been  upon  the  rack 
for  months.  They  scorn  consistency.  After  show- 
ing the  Major  the  hideous  vision  of  his  homestead  in 
ashes  and  putting  him  through  the  ceremony  of  bury- 
ing five  scorched  corpses,  they  changed  the  scene. 
He  saw  himself  engaged  to  be  married  to  Miss  Gar- 
nett. He  did  not  want  to  marry  her,  he  had  not  pro- 
posed to  marry  her;  but  in  some  mysterious  manner 
he  was  in  honour  bound  to  her.  At  the  altar  of  his 
parish  church  stood  Meldon,  grinning  abominably. 
There  was  an  end  of  peaceful  days.  He  saw  plainly 
that  in  the  future  he  would  be  dragged  up  to  Dublin 
five  or  six  times  a  year,  made  to  stay  in  large  and 
noisy  hotels,  taken  to  concerts,  and  compelled  to  buy 


216  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

things  he  did  not  want.  His  polo  ponies  would  be 
taken  away  from  him  and  sold;  his  paddock  laid  out 
in  rose-gardens  and  herbaceous  borders.  Women 
would  swarm  into  his  house,  drinking  tea  there  every 
afternoon.  There  would  be  small  bits  of  white  cal- 
ico left  on  his  study  floor  to  offend  his  eye.  Balls 
of  wool  would  lie  about  in  dark  places  ready  to  en- 
tangle his  feet.  The  rattle  of  a  sewing-machine 
would  make  his  evening  hours  unbearable.  He  saw 
himself  a  tame  man  of  the  drawing-room,  effervescing 
with  mild  jokes  and  degradingly  absorbed  in  minor 
gossip.  The  Spindrift  would  rot  uncared-for  at  her 
anchorage. 

He  heard  the  clock  in  the  hall  strike  six,  and  felt 
that  it  was  impossible  for  him  to  bear  his  torments 
any  longer.  He  rose  and  dressed.  Strung  to  the  ex- 
tremest  pitch  of  resolve,  he  went  down  to  the  gate 
lodge  and  roused  Jamesy  Deveril.  He  bade  him  sad- 
dle a  horse  and  ride  at  once  to  the  post-office  in  Bally- 
moy.  Jamesy  pointed  out  that  the  office  would  not 
be  open  until  eight  o'clock,  and  that  nothing  would 
be  gained  by  starting  before  half-past  seven.  The 
Major  went  into  the  house  and  composed  a  telegram 
to  his  sister  Margaret. 

"  Come  here  at  once,"  he  wrote.  "  The  position  of 
affairs  is  critical.  Marjorie,  though  not  ill,  is  in 
constant  danger." 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  217 

Jamesy  departed  with  this  message  at  half-past 
seven.  Only  after  he  had  gone  did  the  Major  recol- 
lect that  it  was  Sunday.  The  chances  were  against 
the  telegram  getting  all  the  way  to  Vienna  on  a  Sun- 
day; but  it  would  at  all  events  start.  The  alarming 
nature  of  the  message  might  move  a  Dublin  clerk  to 
get  it  through  as  far  as  London.  Then  there  would 
be  every  hope  of  its  reaching  Margaret  Purvis  early 
on  Monday.  If  she  started  at  once  —  and  surely  no 
mother  in  receipt  of  such  a  telegram  would  fail  to 
start  at  once  —  she  might  reach  Ballymoy  on  Tues- 
day afternoon. 

At  breakfast  the  Major  began  to  feel  that  he  had 
perhaps  worded  the  telegram  too  strongly.  Marjorie 
and  Miss  Garnett  appeared  together.  They  sat  to- 
gether at  one  side  of  the  table.  Nobody  looking  at 
Majorie  would  have  supposed  her  capable  of  causing 
the  smallest  annoyance  or  anxiety.  She  was  dressed 
in  her  blue  frock,  and  the  tear  in  it  was  carefully 
mended.  Her  hair  was  sleek,  and  tied  neatly  with 
a  blue  ribbon.  Her  face  shone  with  much  washing, 
and  expressed  a  gentle  submissiveness  which  came  near 
to  being  prim.  She  said,  "Yes,  Uncle  John,"  "No, 
Uncle  John,"  when  he  addressed  her.  She  smiled 
with  meek  good-humour  when  he  spoke.  Only  once 
did  she  show  the  smallest  sign  of  animation,  and  that 
was  when  she  heard  that  she  was  to  go  to  church. 


2i8  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

"Will  J.  J.  preach?"  she  asked. 

Miss  Garnett  did  not  look  as  if  she  wanted  to 
marry  anyone.  She  was  most  demure  and  entirely 
devoted  to  Marjorie.  She  scarcely  ever  raised  her 
eyes  from  her  plate,  and  said  little'  more  than  "  Thank 
you  "  and  "  No,  thank  you,"  when  the  Major  spoke 
to  her.  He  felt  that  the  sending  of  the  telegram 
might  have  been  postponed  until  Monday  morning. 
Nevertheless,  he  nerved  himself  after  breakfast  to  the 
point  of  delivering  a  solemn  and,  he  hoped,  impress- 
ive lecture  to  his  niece. 

"  Marjorie,"  he  said,  "  now  that  Miss  Garnett  is 
here,  I  shall  expect  you  to  settle  down  and  behave 
with  propriety.  There  must  be  no  more  playing  in 
the  yard  with  Paudeen  Canavan." 

"  No,  Uncle  John,  no  more  playing  at  all." 

"  I  didn't  say  there  was  to  be  no  more  playing.  I 
hope  you  will  play  with  Miss  Garnett.  You  will 
play  lawn-tennis  and  croquet,  and  —  and  —  other 
suitable  games  at  proper  times.  Every  morning  you 
will  do  two  hours'  lessons  before  luncheon." 

"Yes,  Uncle  John." 

Marjorie's  tone  was  dutiful,  but  there  was  a  slight 
break  in  her  voice. 

"Not  very  difficult  lessons,"  said  the  Major,  who 
felt  that  he  must  not  push  his  severity  too  far — "just 
a  little  history  without  dates,  and  some  French. 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  219 

Perhaps,  Miss  Garnett,  the  irregular  verbs  might  be 
omitted  for  the  present.  Get  on  as  far  as  you  can 
without  them.  There  need  be  no  arithmetic." 

"  If  you  like,  Uncle  John,  I'll  do  arithmetic.  I've 
got  as  far  as  long  division  of  money." 

"  The  lessons  need  not  be  very  difficult.  You  -un- 
derstand, Miss  Garnett?  But  they  must  be  abso- 
lutely regular.  Nothing  must  be  allowed  to  break  in 
upon  the  two  hours  before  luncheon.  In  the  after- 
noon you  will  go  for  a  walk,  taking  with  you  either  a 
botany  book  or  materials  for  sketching.  This  will  be 
the  —  er  —  the  curriculum  every  day." 

"  But,  Uncle  John " 

"Yes,  Marjorie?" 

"  Not  next  Tuesday." 

"Certainly,"  said  the  Major.  "The  routine  on 
next  Tuesday  will  be  precisely  the  same  as  on  all  the 
other  days.  I  see  no  reason  whatever  for  making  an 
exception  of  next  Tuesday." 

"But  J.  J.  promised  that  I  was  to  see  the  Lord 
Lieutenant,  and  I  was  to  be  a  fairy.  Oh,  Uncle 
John,  please  say  I  may  go  with  J.  J.  on  Tuesday  and 
wear  my  fairy  dress." 

"  Certainly  not,"  said  the  Major  sternly.  "  I 
never  cared  for  that  Lord  Lieutenant  business,  and  I 
won't  have  you  mixed  up  in  it." 

Marjorie   began   to   cry.     She   wept   bitterly,   and 


220  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

choking  sobs  succeeded  each  other  in  quick  succes- 
sion. 

"  Come,  Marjorie,  dear,"  said  Miss  Garnett. 
"  When  your  uncle  says  you  are  not  to  go  to  see  the 
Lord  Lieutenant  you  must  think  no  more  about  it. 
If  you  will  leave  her  to  me,  please,  Major  Kent,  I  will 
explain  it  to  her." 

The  Major  turned  to  leave  the  room.  He  was 
pursued  by  a  heartbroken  cry  from  Marjorie. 

"  Oh,  Uncle  John !  I  want  to  present  an  address 
and  to  be  a  fairy.  I  can't  bear  not  to.  Do  let  me, 
and  I'll  promise,  always,  always  to  be  good.  I'll 
never  go  on  the  yacht  again  or  take  things  out  of  the 
kitchen." 

If  Miss  Garnett  had  not  been  there  the  Major 
would  have  given  way  at  once.  He  had  not  under- 
stood when  he  forbade  it  that  Marjorie's  heart  was 
set  upon  the  presentation  of  the  address  to  the  Lord 
Lieutenant.  It  was  only  the  fear  of  appearing  weak 
and  vacillating  before  Miss  Garnett  which  enabled 
him  to  harden  his  heart.  He  left  the  room  and  went 
into  his  study.  He  tried  to  persuade  himself  as  he 
smoked  that  he  was  acting  a  noble  part,  sacrificing 
his  own  inclination  to  his  niece's  higher  interests. 
But  Marjorie's  wail  disturbed  him. 

The  car  came  to  the  door  at  eleven  o'clock.  Miss 
Garnett  and  Marjorie  appeared  hatted  and  gloved  for 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  221 

church.  Major  Kent  looked  at  his  niece  apprehen- 
sively. He  was  relieved  to  find  that  she  was  quite 
cheerful  again,  and  was  apparently  thinking  no  more 
about  the  Lord  Lieutenant.  Her  behaviour  while 
they  drove  into  Ballymoy  was  excellent.  During  the 
service  in  church  she  was  saintly.  Her  eyes  were 
seldom  lifted  from  her  book.  She  stood,  sat,  knelt, 
sang,  and  repeated  the  responses  with  marked  devo- 
tion. The  rector,  who  was  feeling  his  bronchitis 
acutely,  was  not  in  church.  Meldon  preached.  His 
text  was  taken  from  the  Book  of  Proverbs :  "  He  that 
spareth  his  rod,  spoileth  his  son."  The  sermon  dealt 
with  the  proper  mingling  of  kindness  with  severity 
in  the  treatment  of  children.  The  Major,  who  felt 
himself  compelled  much  against  his  will  to  listen  at- 
tentively, gathered  the  impression  that  Solomon  ap- 
proved strongly  of  severity  towards  boys  of  twelve 
years  old  and  upwards  —  Meldon's  illustrations 
showed  plainly  that  he  had  Paudeen  Canavan  in  his 
mind  —  but  was  in  favour  of  unlimited  indulgence 
towards  small  girls.  The  text,  if  Meldon's  exposi- 
tion of  it  was  to  be  trusted,  did  not  apply  to  girls, 
because  the  word  used  in  the  original  Hebrew  was 
masculine  —  son,  and  not  daughter. 

"  If,"  said  Meldon  triumphantly,  "  Solomon  had 
meant  daughter  he  would  have  said  daughter;  for  he 
was  a  man  who  was  careful  about  his  words." 


222  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

After  the  sermon  came  the  collection.  It  was  then 
that  Marjorie  lapsed  for  the  first  and  only  time  from 
the  strict  propriety  of  her  behaviour.  Her  offence 
was  not  very  grave.  She  wrapped  her  contribution 
up  in  a  sheet  of  notepaper,  which  she  took  out  of  her 
pocket,  and  dropped  it  in  the  form  of  a  small  parcel 
on  to  the  plate.  Meldon,  counting  the  money  after- 
wards, came  upon  it.  He  unwrapped  it  carefully, 
and  discovered  that  a  note,  plainly  meant  for  him, 
was  written  on  the  paper. 

"  Dearest  J.  J.,"  he  read,  "  Uncle  John  says  I  am 
not  to  be  a  fairy  or  to  give  the  address  to  the  lady. 
I  cannot  spell  her,  but  you  know  who  I  mean. 
Please  tell  Uncle  John  I  am  to.  I  do  want  to  so 
much,  and  you  know  you  promised. 

"Your  sad  and  affectioned,  Marjorie  Purvis." 

Leaving  the  rest  of  the  coins,  like  the  ninety-and- 
nine  sheep  in  the  wilderness  of  the  vestry-table,  Mel- 
don darted  through  the  church  and  was  just  in  time 
to  catch  Major  Kent  as  he  got  on  his  car.  Marjorie 
was  already  seated  with  Miss  Garnett  on  the  other 
side.  She  did  not  so  much  as  turn  her  head  when 
Meldon  shouted  to  the  Major.  She  called  Miss 
Garnett's  attention  to  the  beauty  of  a  glass 
case,  containing  a  black-edged  card  and  some 
artificial  flowers,  which  lay  on  the  grave  nearest  to 
her. 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  223 

"  Major,"  said  Meldon,  "  come  into  the  vestry  for 
a  minute ;  I  want  to  speak  to  you." 

The  Major  went  reluctantly.  His  conscience  was 
uneasy.  He  remembered  Marjorie's  tears  in  the 
morning.  The  sermon  had  hit  him  hard.  He  knew 
that  a  conflict  with  Meldon  on  the  subject  of  the  ad- 
dress to  the  Lord  Lieutenant  was  inevitable,  but  he 
did  not  want  to  enter  on  it  at  once.  He  tried  to 
cheer  himself  with  the  thought  that  Meldon  could  not 
yet  know  what  happened  after  breakfast  in  Ports- 
mouth Lodge. 

"  Major,"  said  Meldon,  "  do  you  know  htev  I  spent 
my  time  last  night  after  I  left  you  ?  " 

"  No.     I  suppose  you  went  home  to  bed." 

"  Well,  I  didn't.  Much  as  I  should  have  liked  to 
go  straight  to  bed  after  the  exertions  of  the  day,  I 
didn't  do  it.  I  went  into  Doyle's  hotel.  At  great 
personal  inconvenience  I  got  hold  of  Doyle.  I  made 
him  send  for  that  nephew  of  his  who  writes  reports 
for  newspapers.  I  had  him  dragged  into  Doyle's  pri- 
vate room,  and  I  spent  the  best  part  of  an  hour  per- 
suading him  not  to  send  an  account  of  your  ridicu- 
lous behaviour  yesterday  afternoon  to  the  press. 
Doyle  backed  me  up  for  all  he  was  worth.  He  said 
he'd  get  Father  McCormack  to  speak  off  the  altar 
about  it  if  anything  was  done  to  annoy  you.  Noth- 
ing could  have  been  nicer  than  Doyle  was,  and  the 


224  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

nephew  behaved  well.  Considering  that  he  was  sac- 
rificing a  five-pound-note,  he  behaved  uncommonly 
well.  He  promised  to  tear  up  what  he  had  written. 
Now,  what  do  you  say  to  that  ?  " 

"  I'm  very  much  obliged  to  you,  J.  J.,  and  I'm 
really  grateful  to  Doyle  and  his  nephew." 

"That's  what  you  say,"  said  Meldon.  "But  it's 
not,  I'm  sorry  to  say,  what  you  mean.  Words  are 
cheap,  Major,  and  anyone  can  say  he's  grateful  for 
a  kindness  that's  been  done  to  him.  But  what  does 
your  gratitude  amount  to?  No  sooner  is  my  back 
turned  than  you  forbid  your  niece  to  present  an  ad- 
dress to  the  Lord  Lieutenant's  wife.  I  say  nothing 
about  the  way  you  are  treating  the  child  herself, 
though  for  cold-blooded,  calculated,  deliberate  cruelty, 
your  conduct  would  be  hard  to  beat.  You  allow  her 
to  suppose  up  to  the  last  moment  that  she's  going  to 
enjoy  one  of  the  greatest  pleasures  a  little  girl  could 
possibly  have.  You  allow  her  to  plan  it,  dream  of  it, 
look  forward  to  it,  find  innocent  delight  in  anticipa- 
tion, to  have  her  dress  tried  on  and  her  fairy  wings, 
with  gold  spangles  on  them,  actually  fitted  to  her 
shoulders.  Then  out  of  an  absolutely  fiendish  desire 
to  see  her  suffer,  you  dash  the  cup  from  her  lips." 

"I  didn't  think " 

"No,  you  didn't.  And  that's  the  reason  I'm  not 
dwelling  on  that  side  of  the  subject.  If  you  were 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  225 

capable  of  thinking  about  anybody  except  yourself,  if 
you  were  a  man  of  any  good  feeling  or  tenderness  of 
heart,  I'd  say  more  about  the  pain  you  are  giving  to 
that  child.  But  there's  no  good  talking  that  way  to 
you.  I  don't  suppose,  either,  that  it's  any  use  ap- 
pealing to  your  sense  of  common  decency  and  grati- 
tude. Most  men  would  hesitate,  after  accepting  a 
sacrifice  of  five  pounds  from  Doyle's  nephew,  to  ruin 
the  account  that  young  fellow  has  written  of  the  pro- 
ceedings next  Tuesday.  I  suppose  you  understand 
that  if  your  niece  does  not  come  up  to  the  scratch  his 
whole  report  will  be  spoiled,  and  he'll  lose  another 
thirty  shillings  over  it.  You  don't  think  about  that, 
and  you  wouldn't  care  if  you  did  think.  You  might, 
if  you  were  a  different  kind  of  man,  remember  that 
I  rescued  your  niece  twice  —  once  from  the  back  of 
a  horse  that  might  very  well  have  killed  her,  and 
once  from  a  watery  grave.  I  don't  expect  gratitude, 
of  course.  But  I  think  that  you  might  refrain  from 
deliberately  putting  me  into  an  extremely  awkward 
position.  Here  I  am.  I've  promised  the  Lord  Lieu- 
tenant of  Ireland  and  the  Marchioness  of  Chesterton 
that  your  niece  will  present  an  address  to  them. 
They're  coming  here  expressly,  or,  at  all  events, 
mainly,  to  get  that  address.  If  it  isn't  presented  in 
the  proper  way,  as  they've  been  led  to  expect  that  it 
will  be  presented,  they'll  naturally  blame  me.  My 


226  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

prospects  in  life  will  suffer.  And  all  because  you 
won't  lend  me  your  niece  for  a  perfectly  innocent 
purpose,  for  a  single  half-hour  next  Tuesday.  You 
ought  to  consider,  Major,  that  only  for  me  you  would 
very  likely  now  be  mourning  for  Marjorie  instead  of 
driving  her  home  to  a  comfortable  dinner  on  a  car." 

"If  you  put  it  that  way " 

"I'm  not  putting  it  that  way.  Don't  suppose  for 
a  moment  that  I'd  waste  my  breath  putting  it  in  that 
way  to  you.  I  know  you  too  well.  The  way  I'm 
putting  it  is  this :  I  don't  believe  you  are  altogether  a 
bad  man,  Major.  You  are  devilishly  cruel  to  chil- 
dren. You  are  appallingly  selfish.  You  are  utterly 
ungrateful  to  those  who  make  sacrifices  for  you. 
You  don't  know  the  meaning  of  the  word  '  friend- 
ship ' ;  but  you  have  certain  good  qualities.  I'll  say 
this  for  you:  You're  a  consistently  loyal  man.  I 
don't  believe  you'd  murder  a  Chief  Secretary  even  if 
he  happened  to  be  a  Liberal.  I'll  give  you  credit  for 
a  desire  to  stand  by  the  King  and  the  Lord  Lieuten- 
ant and  the  Local  Government  Board  even  when  they 
happen  to  be  doing  things  you  dislike.  You  probably 
don't  fully  realise  that  in  refusing  to  allow  your  niece 
to  present  that  address  of  welcome  you  are  acting  in 
the  most  flagrantly  disloyal  manner  that  it  is  possible 
to  conceive.  It  wouldn't  be  nearly  so  bad  if  you 
came  out  into  the  open  and  played  'God  save  Ire- 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  227 

land'  on  a  concertina  up  and  down  the  street  while 
the  Lord  Lieutenant  was  at  lunch.  That  would  be  a 
manly  act,  however  misguided;  but  to  refuse  to  allow 
your  niece " 

"  I've  said  twice  already  that  I  will  allow  her." 

"  I  didn't  hear  you.  I'm  glad  you've  decided  to  do 
what's  right  at  last.  If  I've  spoken  too  strongly,  Ma- 
jor—  though  I  don't  think  I  have  —  you'll  under- 
stand that  it  was  for  your  own  good.  Now  if  you'll 
just  count  the  rest  of  that  collection  for  me,  I'll  run 
out  and  tell  Marjorie.  Shell  be  very  happy  when 
she  hears  the  news,  and  you'll  enjoy  the  luxury  of  a 
quiet  conscience.  Some  day  you'll  thank  me  for  sav- 
ing you  from  committing  a  deed  which  would  have 
hung  round  your  neck  all  the  rest  of  your  life  like 
an  albatross." 

"Like  a  what?" 

"  An  albatross,"  said  Meldon,  as  he  sped  down  the 
aisle  of  the  church.  "  I  can't  stop  to  explain  it  now. 
Read  the  '  Ancient  Mariner '  when  you  go  home,  and 
you'll  find  out  all  about  it.  If  you  haven't  got  a  copy, 
ask  Miss  Garnett  to  recite  the  passage  I  refer  to. 
She'll  know  it" 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

THE  day  of  the  Lord  Lieutenant's  visit  to  Bally- 
moy  broke  miserably.  A  strong  wind  blew 
from  the  south-east  and  brought  with  it  torrents  of 
rain.  No  one  in  Connacht  allows  rain  to  interfere 
with  pleasure-parties,  even  picnics,  and  so  far  as  the 
people  of  the  district  were  responsible  for  it,  the  suc- 
cess of  the  reception  was  not  likely  to  be  marred. 
It  was  true  that  the  triumphal  arch  did  not  look  its 
best.  It  was  a  long  strip  of  v/hite  cotton,  on  which 
were  printed  in  vivid  green  the  words  "  Cead  Mile 
Failte,"  of  which  it  was  supposed  that  the  Lord  Lieu- 
tenant might  possibly  know  the  meaning.  The  ends 
of  this  banner  were  wound  round  two  short  sticks, 
which  were  intended  to  keep  the  whole  extent  of  the 
cotton  stretched  tightly  up  and  down,  so  that  the  in- 
scription could  be  read.  These  sticks  were  attached 
by  cords  to  the  windows  of  houses  at  the  opposite 
sides  of  the  street ;  thus  forming  an  nrch  of  the  kind 
known  as  triumphal.  Unfortunately  the  storm  and 
rain  played  havoc  with  the  thing.  First  the  rain 
damped  the  cotton  so  that  the  letters  of  the  inscrip- 
tion ran  into  each  other  and  became  a  totally  illegi- 
ble smudge  of  watery  green.  Then  the  wind,  sport- 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  229 

ing  with  the  thin  fabric,  twisted  it  round  and  round 
itself  until  it  looked  like  a  white  garment  of  mon- 
strous length  in  process  of  being  wrung  out  after  a 
washing  in  dirty  water.  But  nobody  was  much  de- 
pressed by  the  fate  of  the  triumphal  arch.  Mr. 
Doyle  had  all  along  been  opposed  to  its  erection. 
He  regarded  a  welcome  of  this  kind  to  the  represent- 
ative of  a  foreign  Government  as  likely  to  compro- 
mise the  reputation  of  the  town  for  stern  National- 
ism. He  argued  plausibly  that  an  illuminated  address 
to  be  handed  to  Lady  Chesterton  was  one  thing;  a 
triumphal  arch,  with  an  inscription  which  might  be 
understood  to  apply  to  the  Lord  Lieutenant,  was  quite 
another  matter.  The  address,  as  he  had  maintained 
all  along,  was  simply  an  expression  of  the  traditional 
courtesy  of  the  Irish  people.  The  arch,  which  had 
been  devised  and  erected  by  a  rival  publican,  was 
described  by  Mr.  Doyle  as  a  piece  of  "outrageous 
flunkeyism."  He  succeeded  in  persuading  his  nephew 
to  delete,  on  account  of  its  reference  to  the  arch,  a 
striking  passage  which  occurred  at  the  beginning  of 
the  report  of  the  day's  proceedings. 

"The  town,"  so  this  document  originally  ran, 
"  was  brilliantly  decorated  for  the  occasion,  perhaps 
the  most  striking  feature  in  the  display  being  a  mag- 
nificent triumphal  arch,  which  spanned  the  main 
street,  and  bore,  in  the  ancient  and  mellifluous  tongue 


230  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

of  the  Gael,  an  expression  of  welcome  to  the  kindly 
lady  and  her  noble  consort  whose  presence  was  that 
day  to  grace  Ballymoy." 

When  this  passage  was  omitted,  the  report  as  actu- 
ally supplied  to  the  newspapers,  began: 

"  From  an  early  hour  of  the  morning  the  country- 
people  flocked  into  the  town.  They  were  evidently 
in  humour  for  high  holiday.  Laughter  resounded  on 
every  side.  Gay  dresses,  varying  in  hue  from  the 
brilliant  crimson  of  the  women's  petticoats  to  the 
more  serious  grey  of  the  men's  frieze  coats,  added  a 
scarcely  needed  note  of  cheerfulness  to  the  scene. 
The  number  of  those  who  arrived  on  horseback  was 
so  great  as  to  suggest  the  formation  of  an  escort  of 
mounted  cavalry,  who  should  accompany  their  Ex- 
cellencies on  their  tour  through  the  streets." 

This  suggestion  was  originally  Meldon's.  It  was 
adopted  by  Mr.  Doyle's  nephew  in  his  report  as  a 
picturesque  touch;  but  was  not  actually  carried  out 
because  the  horses  of  the  district  were  not  accustomed 
to  motor-cars,  and  could  not  be  trusted  to  behave 
properly. 

"The  weather,"  the  report  went  on,  "though 
broken  by  occasional  light  showers,  was  not  of  a  kind 
to  interfere  with  the  heartiness  of  the  welcome  ac- 
corded to  their  Excellencies.  Connacht,  indeed,  on 
this  occasion,  may  be  said  to  have  justified  the  words 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  231 

of  the  poet  who  wrote  of  '  the  tear  and  the  smile  in 
her  eye.' " 

"  It's  my  belief,"  said  Father  McCormack,  when 
he  came  on  this  passage  of  the  report,  "that  the  wel- 
come will  be  wasted  altogether,  for  the  Lord  Lieu- 
tenant will  never  face  that  occasional  light  shower 
which  has  been  coming  down  in  bucketfuls  since  six 
o'clock  this  morning." 

Doyle,  who  was  assisting  at  the  final  revision 
of  the  report,  sighed  heavily,  and  said  he  agreed 
with  the  priest.  Then  Meldon  burst  into  the 
room. 

"  Doyle,"  he  said,  "  have  you  sent  the  covered  car- 
riage out  for  the  Major's  niece,  and  told  the  driver 
to  call  for  Mrs.  Gregg  on  his  way  in  ?  " 

"  I  have  not,"  said  Doyle.  "  Sure  there's  time 
enough." 

"  There's  not  time  enough.  She's  got  to  have  the 
fairy  dress  put  on  her;  and  what  with  the  spangles 
and  the  wings  and  the  gold  star  in  her  hair,  that  will 
take  some  time." 

"Any  way,  where's  the  use?"  said  Doyle. 
"  Father  McCormack,  here,  says  they'll  never  face 
the  weather." 

"  Is  it  the  Lord  Lieutenant  not  face  the  weather?  " 

"  Him  and  his  lady." 

"  My  dear  Father   McCormack,   what  makes   you 


232  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

say  such  a  thing  ?  You  don't  —  you  really  don't  un- 
derstand the  English  people." 

"  I  ought  to,  then,"  said  the  priest.  "  I  was  on  a 
mission  in  Lancashire  for  the  first  five  years  after  I 
left  Maynooth,  and  I  saw  plenty  of  the  English  peo- 
ple, more  than  ever  I  want  to  see  again." 

"Well,  then,  you've  forgotten  what  they're  like. 
I  tell  you  straight  they're  a  wonderful  people.  Their 
great  outstanding  characteristic  is  their  devotion  to 
duty.  No  Englishman  ever  neglects  his  duty. 
You'll  find  that  in  any  history-book.  There  was 
Nelson,  for  instance.  You  recollect  the  way  he 
looked  at  the  signal  the  Admiral  was  trying  to  get 
him  to  attend  to  out  of  his  blind  eye,  and  then  said: 
'  England  expects  every  man  to  do  his  duty/ 
That's  the  sort  of  people  the  English  are.  The  more 
totally  useless  the  duty  may  be  when  it's  done  the 
more  determined  they  are  to  do  it.  Look  at  the  way 
they  whiten  their  doorsteps.  You  must  have  noticed 
that  if  you  lived  in  Lancashire." 

"  I  did,"  said  the  priest.  "  Many's  the  time  I'd  be 
ashamed  to  walk  on  them." 

"  Well,  now,  is  there  anything  in  the  world  except 
a  devotion  to  duty  that  would  make  a  person  whiten 
a  doorstep?  It's  just  the  same  with  the  Lord  Lieu- 
tenant. He's  not  a  fool.  His  wife's  not  a  fool. 
We're  not  fools.  Nobody  supposes  for  a  moment 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  233 

that  any  child  in  Connacht  is  going  to  be  any  the  bet- 
ter of  their  coming  here  and  making  speeches  in  the 
rain." 

"  Of  course  not,"  said  the  priest.  "  What  use  are 
speeches  ?  " 

"  The  Lord  Lieutenant  knows,  and  his  wife  knows, 
just  as  well  as  you  do  that  there  isn't  a  child  in  the 
place  wants  to  be  ameliorated,  nor  a  man  or  woman 
that  would  step  across  the  road  to  ameliorate  one  if 
it  did.  What  brings  them  here,  then?  It's  not 
pleasure.  You  can't  suppose  it's  any  pleasure  to 
them  to  come  to  Ballymoy  and  eat  the  lunch  Doyle 
has  waiting  for  them." 

"The  lunch  is  good  enough,"  said  Doyle. 

"  It  may  be.  But  it  isn't  to  eat  it  they're  coming ; 
and  if  it's  not  that,  what  is  it  brings  them  here  ?  " 

"  I've  wondered  many  a  time,"  said  Father  Mc- 
Cormack,  "  what  does  bring  them.  I'm  here,  parish 
priest  of  Ballymoy,  getting  on  for  twenty  years,  and 
what  between  Lord  Lieutenants  and  Vice-Presidents 
and  Members  of  Parliament,  I  could  reckon  close  on 
thirty  that  have  been  to  Ballymoy ;  and  I  never  made 
out  yet  the  rights  of  why  they  came." 

"Well,  I'll  tell  you.  It's  the  instinct  of  duty  that 
drives  them.  You  can't  understand  it.  No  more  can 
I.  No  more  can  Mr.  Doyle.  We're  not  English. 
We  can't  explain  it  any  more  than  we  can  explain 


234  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

what  it  is  that  makes  your  red  setter  stand  still  when 
he  gets  the  smell  of  a  game  bird,  or  what  it  is  that 
makes  a  hen  sit  for  four  weeks  on  a  lot  of  duck  eggs. 
You  wouldn't  sit  on  eggs.  I  wouldn't  sit  on  eggs. 
We  haven't  got  the  instinct.  It's  just  the  same  with 
an  Englishman  and  his  duty.  He  doesn't  do  it  be- 
cause he  wants  to.  He  doesn't  do  it  because  he  ex- 
pects any  good  to  come  of  it.  He  just  does  it  be- 
cause it's  his  nature." 

"  That's  true,"  said  Doyle.  "  I've  seen  them  coast- 
guards taking  it  in  turns  to  stand  on  the  top  of  the 
hill  with  a  long  telescope  tucked  under  their  arms, 
and  then  looking  at  the  sea  out  of  it,  maybe  once  in 
every  quarter  of  an  hour,  the  same  as  if  there  might 
be  something  coming  in  or  going  out  along  with  the 
tide." 

"  Just  so,"  said  Meldon.  "  Now  it's  the  duty  of 
the  Lord  Lieutenant  to  visit  places  like  Ballymoy. 
Nobody  knows  why.  It's  simply  a  fixed  idea  in  the 
English  mind  that  a  Lord  Lieutenant  ought  to  visit 
them,  the  same  way  that  it's  a  fixed  idea  in  the  hen's 
mind  that  she  ought  to  sit  on  the  eggs  till  something, 
be  the  same  chickens  or  ducks  or  turkeys,  comes  out 
of  them.  Now  is  it  likely  that  a  shower  of  rain 
would  stop  a  Lord  Lieutenant  from  doing  his  duty, 
especially  when  he  has  a  motor-car  with  very  likely 
some  kind  of  a  lid  on  it  to  keep  him  dry  ?  " 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  235 

"  Maybe  now,"  said  Doyle,  "  if  we  were  to  tele- 
graph to  the  hotel  at  Cuslough  where  he  and  his  lady 
were  stopping  last  night,  they'd  tell  us  whether  or 
not  they'd  started." 

"You  can  telegraph  if  you  like,"  said  Meldon, 
"but  if  you  do  you'll  only  waste  your  sixpence. 
You  may  take  my  word  for  it,  they've  started. 
You'd  far  better  send  that  carriage  out  for  the  Ma- 
jor's niece,  as  I  told  you." 

Doyle  departed.  In  a  few  minutes  a  large  car- 
riage of  great  antiquity  and  most  curious  shape  was 
driven  down  the  street  by  Paddy  Clancy.  Shortly 
afterwards  Doyle  returned  to  the  commercial-room 
with  a  telegram  in  his  hand. 

"  You're  right,  Mr.  Meldon,"  he  said,  "  you're 
right.  They  started  off  at  half  after  ten,  and  we  may 
be  expecting  them  at  or  about  one  o'clock." 

"  It's  eleven  o'clock  now,"  said  Meldon.  "  I'll  just 
run  round  to  your  dressmaker,  Mr.  Doyle,  and  speak 
a  few  words  of  encouragement  to  her.  I  expect 
she's  horribly  nervous,  and  it  won't  do  to  have  her 
breaking  down  at  the  last  moment.  Father  McCor- 
mack,  you're  coming  up  to  the  convent,  I  suppose? 
You  might  as  well  hunt  down  the  attendant 
leprechauns.  If  you  can  raise  enough  umbrellas 
to  keep  them  dry  on  the  way  it'll  be  so  much  the 
better.  If  not,  wrap  them  up  in  shawls  and  things, 


236  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

but  for  goodness'  sake  don't  let  their  clothes  get 
spoiled." 

In  the  workroom  above  Mr.  Doyle's  shop  the  dress- 
maker and  her  four  apprentices  were  gathered  round 
Marjorie's  robes.  The  milliner  and  her  assistant,  a 
young  lady  who  described  herself  as  an  "  improver," 
finding  business  slack  in  their  own  department,  had 
come  to  criticise  and  admire.  One  of  the  girls  out 
of  the  shop,  "the  young  lady  from  behind  the 
counter,"  Mr.  Doyle  called  her,  had  also  wandered 
up  into  the  workroom. 

"  I  hope,"  said  Meldon,  "  that  the  dress  for  the  Ma- 
jor's niece  is  ready  to  slip  on  the  moment  she  arrives, 
and  I  sincerely  hope  it  will  fit." 

The  dressmaker  seemed  a  little  hurt  at  there  being 
any  doubt  about  its  fitting.  Everybody  else  giggled 
feebly. 

"  It  isn't  every  day,"  said  Meldon,  "  that  you  get 
the  chance  of  making  a  dress  for  a  regular  fairy 
queen.  If  you've  done  this  job  well  " —  he  addressed 
himself  specially  to  the  dressmaker  — "  it  may  mean  a 
great  deal  for  you.  The  Lord  Lieutenant's  wife  is  a 
lady  with  a  very  keen  eye  for  a  smart  frock.  You 
have,  I'm  sure,  often  seen  her  picture  in  the  illus- 
trated papers,  and  you  will  have  noticed  that  she's 
always  exquisitely  turned  out.  Now  if  she  sees  that 
this  fairy  dress  is  up  to  the  mark  in  every  respect, 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  237 

she'll  very  likely  give  you  a  job  in  Dublin  Castle,  and 
that  might  lead  on  to  almost  anything." 

The  dressmaker  bridled.  The  prospect  was  a  most 
alluring  one.  The  four  apprentices  stared  at  her  in 
open-mouthed  amazement.  Greatness  seemed  almost 
within  her  reach. 

"  I  hope,"  said  Meldon  to  the  young  lady  from  be- 
hind the  counter,  "  that  you  have  the  illuminated  ad- 
dress safe.  It  was  up  in  your  window  for  some  days, 
and  I  suppose  it's  in  your  keeping  now.  You  have? 
Very  well,  then,  bring  it  to  me.  I'll  take  it  round  to 
the  hotel  and  leave  it  somewhere  handy  so  that  we 
won't  be  searching  high  and  low  for  it  when  the  time 
comes.  After  that,  I'll  go  home  and  get  my  own 
clothes  changed.  If  I'd  thought  of  it  in  time  I'd 
have  got  a  court  suit  with  a  sword  attached  to  it. 
As  it  is,  I  shall  wear  a  top  hat  and  a  frock  coat,  and 
you  can  all  come  round  to  the  hotel  as  soon  as  you've 
finished  off  the  Major's  niece  and  take  a  look  at 
me." 

Having  encouraged  and  cheered  the  staff  of  the 
drapery  store,  Meldon  went  into  the  room  where  the 
Viceregal  party  was  to  lunch.  He  recommended  the 
waiter  to  refold  the  table-napkins  in  a  manner  which 
he  said  was  fashionable.  He  discovered  that  no  menu 
cards  had  been  provided,  and  sent  the  waiter  to  ob- 
tain from  the  cook  a  list  of  the  food.  This  he  trans- 


238  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

lated  into  French,  and  wrote  out  carefully  three  times 
on  the  backs  of  visiting  cards  of  his  own.  He 
propped  these  up  opposite  the  seats  arranged  for  the 
Lord  Lieutenant,  Lady  Chesterton,  and  the  private 
secretary.  Not  having  another  visiting  card  he  was 
obliged  to  write  the  fourth  copy  on  half  a  sheet  of 
notepaper.  This  he  left  opposite  the  remaining  seat. 
It  was  prepared  for  Father  McCormack,  who,  it  was 
expected,  would  be  invited  to  share  the  Viceregal 
meal. 

"  You'll  notice,  John,"  he  said  to  the  waiter,  "  that 
I've  left  out  the  second  of  the  two  puddings.  The 
reason  of  that  is  that  I  can't  at  this  moment  recollect 
the  French  for  stewed  figs.  But  I  have  a  dictionary 
at  home  and  I'll  look  it  up.  I'm  just  going  back 
there  now  to  change  my  clothes.  I'll  drop  in  before 
the  ceremony  begins  and  fill  up  the  gap.  It  will  be 
your  business  to  see  that  Father  McCormack  is  the 
one  who  sits  opposite  the  sheet  of  notepaper.  I'll 
give  him  a  hint  to  that  effect  myself.  But  if  by  any 
chance  he  gets  hustled  into  one  of  the  other  places 
you  must  slip  round  quietly  and  change  the  notepaper 
and  the  card.  The  great  thing  is  to  do  this  banquet 
decently,  and  not  leave  the  impression  that  we're  all 
utter  savages  down  in  Ballymoy." 

At  the  door  of  the  hotel  he  met  Doyle. 

"I  think,"  he  said,  "that  I've  settled  everything 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  239 

for  you  now  except  the  wine.  You  have  champagne, 
of  course  ? " 

"  I  have,"  said  Doyle. 

"  Three  bottles  will  be  enough,"  said  Meldon. 
"  Lady  Chesterton  won't  drink  a  whole  one,  and  the 
private  secretary  will  hardly  expect  to  get  more  than 
what  she  leaves.  You  won't,  of  course,  have  brandy 
handed  round  along  with  the  champagne  ?  " 

"Will  I  not?" 

"  No,  you  won't.  That  mixture  is  only  drunk,  so 
far  as  I  know,  in  Connacht,  and  I  don't  expect  that 
Lord  Lieutenant  will  be  used  to  it  yet.  He  hasn't 
been  here  long  enough.  Next  year  or  the  year  after, 
if  he's  round  again,  you  can  have  it  ready  for  him. 
But,  of  course,  you'll  give  it  to  him  to-day  if  he  asks 
for  it.  What  about  the  hock?" 

"  There's  only  one  bottle  in  the  town.  It's  what 
there's  little  call  for  down  here,  and  it's  no  more  than 
a  chance  that  there's  that  one  bottle  itself." 

"  You  ought  to  have  ordered  a  dozen  down  from 
Dublin.  However,  it's  too  late  to  talk  about  that  now. 
The  best  thing  you  can  do  is  to  tell  John  not  to  press 
the  hock  on  them  unnecessarily;  and  you  can  give 
Father  McCormack  a  hint  not  to  take  it.  You've 
whisky  and  soda,  of  course?" 

"  I  have  —  plenty.     Why  wouldn't  I  ?  " 

"  I  think  that's  all.     I  see  you're  not  giving  them 


240  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

coffee.  You're  right  there.  Any  concoction  your 
cook  would  be  likely  to  make  under  that  name  would 
be  poisonous.  And  now  I  must  be  off  to  change  my 
clothes.  I'll  be  back  with  you  in  the  inside  of  half 
an  hour  to  marshal  the  leprechauns  in  good  order 
and  put  any  finishing  touches  on  the  arrangements 
which  may  be  required." 


CHAPTER  XIX 

^  |  AHE  great  hour  arrived.  At  any  moment  the 
A  Viceregal  motor-car  might  be  expected  to  an- 
nounce itself  with  a  hoot.  The  minutes  passed  in 
nervous  excitement  for  the  two  waiting  companies. 
In  the  hall  of  the  convent  Father  McCormack  and  the 
reverend  Mother  stood  together  trying  to  pretend  to 
each  other  that  they  were  entirely  at  their  ease. 
Grouped  behind  them,  under  the  charge  of  nuns  who 
fidgeted  restlessly,  were  the  Industrial  School  girls, 
such  of  them  as  were  not  serving  as  leprechauns  in 
Marjorie's  train.  Half  a  mile  up  the  road,  at  a  con- 
venient corner,  a  cyclist  scout  was  posted.  It  was 
his  duty  to  ride  at  full  speed  to  the  convent  to  an- 
nounce the  first  appearance  of  the  visitors.  At  the 
convent  gate  stood  another  cyclist  who  was  to  carry 
the  news  of  the  arrival  down  to  the  hotel. 

There  Mel  don  was  waiting,  in  the  coffee-room,  sur- 
rounded by  leprechauns,  holding  Mar j  one  by  the 
hand.  The  dressmaker,  the  milliner,  and  the  dress- 
maker's four  apprentices  flitted  to  and  fro  among  the 
leprechauns,  giving  final  touches  to  the  dresses  and 
swift  pats  to  the  children's  hair.  Mrs.  Gregg  and 
Miss  Garnett,  having  done  all  they  could  for  Mar- 
241 


242  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

jorie,  stood  together  and  admired  their  handiwork. 
Marjorie  balanced  herself  first  on  one  leg  and  then  on 
the  other,  swinging  Meldon's  hand  up  and  down  in 
delighted  excitement.  Doyle  was  at  the  door  of  the 
hotel  watching  for  the  coming  of  the  cyclist  from  the 
convent. 

He  appeared,  riding  desperately  down  the  street. 
Doyle  rushed  into  the  coffee-room. 

"  They've  come !  "  he  said.    "  They've  come !  " 

Meldon's  voice  stilled  the  tumultuous  excitement 
which  followed. 

"  Let  everyone,"  he  said,  "  keep  absolutely  cool. 
Miss  Garnett,  Marjorie's  wings  must  be  left  as  they 
are.  If  they  are  crooked,  it  cannot  be  helped  now. 
The  leprechauns  will  please  stand  still.  Any  rushing 
about  is  liable  to  injure  their  costumes.  Doyle, 
kindly  use  your  influence  with  your  dressmaker  and 
her  assistants  to  prevent  their  agitating  the  lepre- 
chauns. There  is  still  plenty  of  time  before  us.  The 
Lord  Lieutenant  and  Lady  Chesterton  cannot  be  here 
for  at  least  a  quarter  of  an  hour.  They  have  a  good 
deal  to  do  at  the  convent.  They  must  congratulate 
the  reverend  Mother  on  the  plump  condition  of  the 
girls  under  her  care.  They  must  ask  for  a  holiday 
for  the  school.  They  must  inspect  whichever  of  the 
dormitories  happens  to  have  been  got  ready  for  them 
to  see.  They  have  to  present  five  pounds  to  the  nuns 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  243 

to  be  spent  on  cakes  and  sweets  for  the  girls.  All 
that  will  take  time,  and  not  until  it's  done  can  they 
take  Father  McCormack  into  the  motor-car  and  come 
on  here." 

This  speech  produced  a  soothing  effect  upon  the 
audience,  and  Meldon  looked  round  him  with  a  smile 
of  satisfaction. 

"  At  the  same  time,"  he  went  on,  "  everybody  ought 
to  begin  to  buck  up.  Marjorie,  take  the  illuminated 
address  in  your  two  hands  and  stand  near  the  door, 
ready  to  proceed  to  the  hall  when  I  give  the  word. 
One  of  your  wings  is  crooked,  I  notice.  Mrs.  Gregg, 
will  you  and  Miss  Garnett  straighten  it  as  quickly 
and  quietly  as  possible,  and  then  retire.  The  lepre- 
chauns will  arrange  themselves  two  and  two  behind 
the  Major's  niece,  sorting  themselves  out  into  pairs 
according  to  size.  They  will  all  stop  grinning  at 
once.  The  presentation  of  an  illuminated  address  is 
not  a  matter  to  grin  about.  Mrs.  Gregg,  you  can't 
stand  beside  Marjorie.  It  will  spoil  the  whole  effect 
if  you  do.  Mr.  Doyle  and  I,  as  representatives  of 
the  reception  committee,  must  be  immediately  behind 
the  last  couple  of  leprechauns.  Everyone  else  will 
stand  on  chairs  and  other  convenient  eminences  in 
the  background,  and  watch  the  proceedings  over  our 
heads.  Is  Paudeen  Canavan  outside?  I  think  I  saw 
him  among  the  crowd.  Doyle,  will  you  be  so  good 


244  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

as  to  fetch  him  in  ?  I  want  to  speak  to  him  for  a  min- 
ute." 

Paudeen,  a  damp  figure,  was  led  through  the  lines 
of  waiting  fairies. 

"  Are  you  listening  to  me,  Paudeen  ?  "  said  Meldon. 
"Very  well.  Let  you  get  yourself  and  a  few  more 
boys,  and  when  the  motor  stops  at  the  hotel  door  slip 
round  the  back  of  it  so  as  you'll  be  able  to  see  what's 
going  on.  The  very  minute  the  lady  kisses  Miss  Mar- 
jorie  you're  to  cheer  like  mad.  Do  you  understand? 
The  rest  of  the  crowd  won't  be  able  to  see  what's 
happening  on  account  of  the  motor-car  being  in  the 
way,  but  if  you  cheer  they'll  cheer  too.  Mind  me, 
now.  If  that  cheer  isn't  what  I  call  a  proper  cheer, 
if  it  doesn't  set  the  window-panes  rattling  all  over 
the  hotel,  you'll  hear  more  about  it  afterwards. 
You've  got  about  ten  minutes,  from  that  to  a  quarter 
of  an  hour,  to  organise  the  demonstration.  You'd 
better  be  smart  about  it.  You  can  get  Paddy  Clancy, 
Mr.  Doyle's  man,  to  help  you  if  you  like.  Be  off  now, 
and  stop  gaping  at  Miss  Marjorie." 

A  fitful  wavering  cheer  broke  from  the  people  in 
the  street  while  Paudeen  was  pushed  from  the  room. 

"It's  themselves,"  said  Doyle. 

"  It  is  not,"  said  Meldon.    "  It  can't  be  yet." 

He  pushed  his  way  through  the  fairies  and  looked 
out 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  245 

"  Well,"  he  said ;  "  this  beats  all.     It's  the  Major." 

Major  Kent,  clad  in  a  suit  of  yachting  oilskins, 
with  a  yellow  sou'wester  on  his  head,  drove  rapidly 
down  the  street  and  pulled  up  with  a  jerk  at  the  door 
of  the  hotel.  He  leaped  from  his  trap,  and  Jamesy 
Deveril,  who  had  evidently  received  his  orders,  drove 
on  at  once  to  the  hotel  yard. 

"We  didn't  expect  you,  Major,"  said  Meldon. 
"  But  we're  delighted  to  see  you.  Be  careful  now  as 
you  come  in.  If  you  drip  over  Marjorie  and  the 
leprechauns  you'll  ruin  the  whole  show.  I  thought 
you  said  that  nothing  would  induce  you  to  put  in  an 
appearance  ?  " 

"  After  all  your  talk  about  loyalty  on  Sunday,"  said 
the  Major,  with  a  grin,  "  I  thought  I'd  better  come. 
Let  me  in  somewhere  till  I  get  off  these  oilskins. 
Jamesy  Deveril  has  my  hat-box  in  the  trap.  I'll  be 
ready  in  two  minutes." 

"  Go  into  the  bar,  Major,"  said  Doyle,  "  and  leave 
your  oilskins  there.  I'll  have  the  hat-box  brought  in 
to  you  in  a  minute." 

"  When  ready,"  said  Meldon,  "  you  will  take  your 
place  in  the  procession  between  me  and  Mr.  Doyle, 
immediately  behind  the  leprechauns.  You  will  hold 
your  hat  in  your  hand  as  you  see  me  do.  When  the 
Marchioness  kisses  Marjorie  you  will  wave  your  hat 
round  your  head.  At  the  same  moment  Paudeen 


246  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

Canavan  will  raise  a  cheer  outside.  All  the  ladies 
who  are  standing  on  chairs  in  the  background" — 
Meldon  here  addressed  himself  to  Mrs.  Gregg,  Miss 
Garnett,  the  dressmaker,  the  milliner,  the  young  lady 
from  behind  the  counter,  the  improver,  the  four  ap- 
prentices, and  a  housemaid  who  had  just  stolen  into 
the  room  — "  all  of  you  will  then  wave  your  pocket- 
handkerchiefs  in  the  air,  and  express  delight  by  mak- 
ing cooing  and  gurgling  sounds  in  your  throats. 
The  leprechauns  in  all  probability  have  no  pocket- 
handkerchiefs,  so  they  will  clap  their  hands  together 
and  smile.  Now  does  everybody  quite  understand 
what  they  have  to  do  ?  " 

"  Please,  J.  J.,"  said  Marjorie,  "  am  I  to  kneel 
down  when  I  present  the  address?" 

"  Certainly  not.  In  the  first  place,  the  floor  in  the 
hall,  where  the  presentation  takes  place,  is  very  wet, 
and  you'd  spoil  the  front  of  your  dress.  In  the  next 
place,  you  must  recollect  that  you're  a  fairy  queen. 
The  other  lady  is  only  a  vicereine,  if  she's  that  —  and 
I'm  not  quite  sure  that  she  is.  I  never  could  see  my- 
self that  the  mere  fact  of  being  married  to  a  viceroy 
makes  anybody  a  vicereine;  though  I  notice  that  all 
the  newspapers  give  her  the  title.  You  needn't  at- 
tempt to  walk  backwards,  either,  Marjorie,  though  I 
believe  it's  correct  to  walk  backwards  at  these  court 
ceremonies.  But  you'd  better  not  do  it.  That  dress 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  247 

of  yours  is  far  longer  than  the  one  you're  accustomed 
to,  and  you'd  probably  trip  over  it.  In  fact,  Mar- 
jorie,  the  less  you  walk  in  any  direction  the  better. 
It  would  be  a  frightful  catastrophe  if  you  fell." 

Another  burst  of  cheering  from  the  crowd  outside 
turned  Meldon's  attention  from  Marjorie. 

"  Doyle,"  he  said,  "  go  and  see  what  that  is.  Or, 
wait  a  moment.  Perhaps  I'd  better  go  myself.  That 
sounded  to  me  rather  a  derisive  kind  of  cheer,  as  if 
Paudeen  Canavan,  or  whoever  started  it,  had  hit  on 
some  kind  of  joke.  If  by  any  possibility  Mrs.  O'Hal- 
loran  and  Mary  Garry  have  arrived,  it  will  be  better 
for  me  to  deal  with  them." 

A  car  stood  at  the  hotel  door.  On  the  near  side 
of  it  sat  the  driver  in  a  black  oilskin  coat  and  a  sou'- 
wester. On  the  far  side  was  a  woman  wrapped  up  in 
rugs  and  shawls.  A  battered  leather  travelling-trunk 
was  tied  on  the  well  with  ropes.  A  single  glance  sat- 
isfied Meldon  that  the  woman  was  not  Mrs.  O'Hal- 
loran,  but  a  stranger.  He  returned  to  the  coffee- 
room  and  told  Doyle  what  he  had  seen. 

"  It's  a  Donard  car,"  he  said.  "  I've  often  seen  the 
driver  standing  about  outside  the  station  and  waiting 
for  the  train  to  come  in.  I  know  the  look  of  him 
well.  I  expect  he's  got  a  tourist  who  has  come  to 
spend  a  week  in  your  hotel.  If  so,  you'd  better  tell 
them  to  drive  round  to  the  yard.  She  must  come  in 


248  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

through  the  back  door.  We  can't  possibly  have  her 
pushing  through  this  crowd,  and  dragging  that 
wet  trunk  after  her.  And  we  can't  have  the  car 
standing  at  the  door.  The  Lord  Lieutenant's  motor 
may  be  here  at  any  moment.  Hurry  up,  now, 
Doyle." 

Doyle  made  his  way  rapidly  through  the  lepre- 
chauns. He  held  a  short  conversation  with  the  driver 
of  the  car.  The  crowd  cheered  lustily,  hoping  for 
some  amusing  hitch  in  the  day's  proceedings. 

"  It's  a  lady,"  said  Doyle  to  Meldon,  a  few  minutes 
later.  "  She  wants  the  Major.  The  driver  says  he 
saw  Jamesy  Deveril  standing  beside  the  yard  gate, 
and  so  he  thought  the  Major  must  be  here." 

"  Tell  him  to  go  round  to  the  yard,"  said  Meldon. 
"  There's  no  time  to  spare.  They  may  be  getting  into 
the  motor  up  at  the  convent  this  minute." 

Doyle  went  out  again,  and  this  time  talked  to  the 
lady  herself.  He  spoke  with  great  earnestness,  but 
without  effect. 

"  She  won't  go,"  he  said  to  Meldon.  "  I  tried  all 
I  know  to  persuade  her;  but  she  says  she  must  see 
the  Major.  I  told  her  that  if  it  was  anything  she  had 
against  the  railway  company  I  was  a  magistrate  my- 
self and  I'd  attend  on  her  as  soon  as  ever  I'd  finished 
giving  the  Lord  Lieutenant  his  lunch.  '  It's  not  a 
magistrate  I  want,'  she  says,  '  but  Major  Kent.  It's 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  249 

a  matter  of  life  and  death,'  she  says,  '  and  I've  a  right 
to  see  him,  for  I'm  his  sister.' " 

"  Good  heavens !  "  said  Meldon,  "  it's  Margaret. 
Doyle,  go  and  take  that  horse  by  the  head  and  lead 
him  into  the  yard,  and  don't  let  the  lady  get  off  the 
car  under  any  pretext  whatever.  Listen  to  no  ex- 
cuses. Use  force  if  necessary.  Do  anything  you 
like,  but  get  her  out  of  that.  There  are  two  police 
outside,  and  if  the  worst  conies  to  the  worst  have  her 
arrested.  If  she  makes  her  way  in  here  now  she'll 
utterly  ruin  the  whole  performance.  If  she  catches 
sight  of  the  Major's  niece  we're  done.  Where's  the 
Major?" 

Doyle,  impressed  by  the  tremendous  energy  of 
Meldon's  manner,  ran  out  and  seized  the  horse.  Amid 
a  tremendous  outburst  of  cheering,  led  by  Paudeen 
Canavan,  he  dragged  horse,  car,  driver,  and  Mrs. 
Purvis  into  the  yard,  and  shut  the  gate  behind  them. 
Meldon  rushed  to  the  hotel  bar  and  found  the  Major 
polishing  his  silk  hat  with  a  pocket-handkerchief. 

"  Major,"  he  said,  with  fierce  intensity,  "  your  sis- 
ter Margaret  has  arrived,  and  she's  looking  for  you. 
If  she  sees  Marjorie  it's  all  over  with  us.  She'll 
never  allow  her  to  present  that  address  to  the  Mar- 
chioness. It  would  be  utterly  contrary  to  the  most 
fundamental  principles  of  the  Parents'  Union.  You 
must  go  out  to  the  yard  at  once  and  capture  her." 


250  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

"  My  dear  J.  J.,  you  don't  know  my  sister  Mar- 
garet. If  she  has  arrived  and  wants  to  come  into  the 
hotel,  I  can't  stop  her.  Nobody  living  could  stop  her. 
It  wouldn't  be  the  least  use  my  trying." 

"  I'll  stop  her,"  said  Meldon.  "  If  I  have  to  lock 
her  up  in  the  stable  till  the  affair  is  over,  I'll  stop  her. 
But  you'll  have  to  manage  the  fairies  and  the  recep- 
tion generally.  You're  sure  to  make  a  muddle  of  it, 
but  that  can't  be  helped.  Doyle's  out  after  your  sis- 
ter already.  Now  I  have  to  go  too,  and  from  what 
you  say  I  expect  it  will  take  both  of  us  all  we  can 
do  to  keep  her  out." 

Meldon  ran  through  the  back  premises  of  the  hotel 
and  out  of  the  scullery  door  into  the  yard.  He  saw 
the  car  standing  near  the  stable.  Mrs.  Purvis  was 
disentangling  herself  from  rugs  and  shawls,  talking 
angrily.  Doyle  stood,  cowed  and  helpless,  beside  her. 

"  Mrs.  Purvis,  I  believe,"  said  Meldon.  "  Allow 
me  to  help  you  with  that  rug.  What  a  terrible  morn- 
ing you've  had  for  your  drive.  I'm  delighted  to  meet 
you,  and  I  feel  it  a  privilege  to  be  the  first  to  bid  you 
welcome  on  your  return  to  your  old  home  after  so 
many  years'  absence  in  Australia.  You  have  the  ad- 
vantage over  us  in  the  way  of  climate  out  there. 
Your  great  enemy,  as  I  understand,  is  not  rain,  but 
drought.  Here,  of  course,  owing  chiefly  to  the  Gulf 
Stream,  there  is  an  extraordinary  humidity.  But  I 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  251 

needn't  tell  you  what  our  weather  is  like.  You  were 
brought  up  to  it." 

"  I  don't  know  who  you  are,"  said  Mrs.  Purvis, 
"  but  I  should  feel  obliged  if  you  would  tell  me 
whether  my  brother,  Major  Kent,  is  in  the  hotel. 
That  men,"  she  pointed  to  Doyle,  "  seems  incapable 
of  speech." 

"  Allow  me  to  introduce  myself.  I'm  the  Rev. 
J.  J.  Meldon,  at  present  curate  of  this  parish.  Your 
brother,  my  respected  friend,  Major  Kent,  asked  me 
to  step  outside  and  say  how  very  pleased  he  is  to 
hear  of  your  arrival.  Just  at  this  precise  moment  he 
happens  to  be  engaged  in  a  rather  important  matter. 
He's  receiving  the  Lord  Lieutenant,  and  I  need 
scarcely  remind  you  that  a  Lord  Lieutenant  isn't  the 
sort  of  bird  you  meet  hopping  about  on  every  bush. 
He's  rather  an  important  person  in  his  way,  and  he 
might  get  touchy  if  he  thought  your  brother  was  not 
showing  him  proper  respect.  That's  the  reason  I'm 
here  to  welcome  you ;  and  if  you'll  be  good  enough  to 
step  into  the  stable  out  of  the  rain  the  Major  will  be 
with  you  in  ten  minutes." 

"  I  shall  certainly  not  do  anything  of  the  sort. 
Why  should  I  wait  in  the  stable?  I  shall  go  straight 
into  the  hotel." 

She  climbed  off  the  car  as  she  spoke,  and  splashed 
heavily  into  a  large  pool. 


252  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

"  Your  brother  thought,"  said  Meldon,  "  that  you'd 
be  interested  in  seeing  his  cob.  It's  in  the  stable  at 
this  moment.  It's  a  remarkable  animal  and  has  won: 
two  first  prizes.  He  felt  sure  you'd  like  to  see  it. 
That's  the  reason  he  suggested  your  going  into  the 
stable.  He  felt  sure  that  the  cob  would  keep  you  in- 
terested and  amused  while  you  were  waiting  for  him." 

"  I've  no  reason  at  present,"  said  Mrs.  Purvis,  "  to 
suppose  that  my  brother  has  gone  mad ;  but  unless  he 
has  he  didn't  send  me  that  message.  I  don't  want  to 
see  his  cob.  I  want  to  see  my  daughter." 

She  set  out  determinedly  towards  the  scullery  door 
as  she  spoke. 

"  Your  daughter  is  perfectly  well,"  said  Meldon  — 
"  well  and  happy.  She's  a  charming  child." 

"  If  she's  well,"  said  Mrs.  Purvis,  "  I  should  like 
to  know  why  John  sent  me  a  telegram  which  brought 
me  across  the  Continent  of  Europe  on  what  appears 
to  be  a  fool's  errand." 

Meldon  might  have  argued  about  the  telegram,  and 
would  have  given  quite  a  plausible  explanation  of  it 
if  he  had  had  time ;  but  Mrs.  Purvis  was  within  a  few 
yards  of  the  scullery  door.  He  realised  that  in  her 
present  temper  she  would  be  capable  of  snatching 
Marjorie  out  of  the  very  arms  of  Lady  Chesterton. 
There  was  only  one  thing  to  do.  He  darted  past  Mrs. 
Purvis,  reached  the  door  first,  passed  through  it, 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  253 

slammed  it  in  the  lady's  face,  and  turned  the  key  in 
the  lock.  A  moment  later  he  appeared  at  the  scul- 
lery-window. 

"  Doyle !  "  he  shouted,  "  run  and  lock  the  yard  gate. 
Put  the  key  into  your  pocket,  and  get  up  into  the 
hayloft  as  quick  as  you  can.  Pull  the  ladder  after 
you,  and  you'll  be  safe." 

Mrs.  Purvis  stood  irresolute  for  a  moment.  Then 
she  walked  over  to  the  scullery  window  and  tried  to 
open  it.  Meldon  held  fast  to  the  sash.  He  stood  on 
a  sink  which  was  just  inside,  and  addressed  Mrs. 
Purvis  through  a  broken  pane  of  glass. 

"  I  may  seem  to  you,"  he  said  politely,  "  to  be  act- 
ing in  a  somewhat  arbitrary  manner,  but  I  haven't 
the  least  doubt  that  you'll  thank  me  afterwards. 
You'll  come  to  see  that  what  I  am  doing  is  for  your 
own  good.  You  will " 

"  I'll  have  you  sent  to  gaol  for  this.  You  have  as- 
saulted me.  You  will  be  prosecuted  for  it  if  there's 
law  to  be  had  anywhere." 

"  If  you'll  allow  me  to  explain,"  said  Meldon,  "  you 
will  realise  that  I  am  acting  in  by  far  the  best  possible 
way  under  the  circumstances.  Your  daughter " 

Mrs.  Purvis  broke  a  pane  of  glass  with  the  handle 
of  her  umbrella. 

"Don't  give  way  to  excitement,"  said  Meldon. 
"  It's  not  the  slightest  use,  and,  besides,  you'll  have 


254  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

to  pay  for  all  you  break  afterwards.  You  won't  be 
able  to  put  the  blame  on  me,  because  Doyle  is  watch- 
ing you  out  of  the  hayloft.  In  any  case,  you  couldn't 
get  in,  even  if  you  smashed  all  the  glass.  The  panes 
are  too  small.  As  I  was  just  saying,  your  daugh- 
ter  " 

Mrs.  Purvis  turned  her  back  on  Meldon  and  walked 
away  from  him  to  the  middle  of  the  yard. 

"Your  daughter,"  said  Meldon,  raising  his  voice 
so  as  to  be  sure  of  being  heard,  "  is  at  this  moment 
under  the  protection  of  her  uncle,  of  a  lady  of  high 
position  and  excellent  character,  Mrs.  Gregg,  and  of 
Miss  Garnett,  whom  I  engaged  last  week  as  a  gov- 
erness for  her.  She  is  surrounded  by  a  troop  of  lep- 
rechauns, all  dressed  in  white,  with  green  sashes,  and 
green  ribbons  tying  up  their  hair.  She  is  about  to 
present  an  address  of  welcome  to  the  Lord  Lieuten- 
ant of  Ireland  and  the  lady  whom  Mr.  Doyle's 
nephew  calls  'his  amiable  consort.'" 

This  announcement  so  far  affected  Mrs.  Purvis 
that  she  turned  round  and  stared  at  Meldon.  Taking 
this  as  an  encouraging  sign,  he  proceeded  blandly: 

"  You  will  understand  that  your  sudden  appearance 
might  unnerve  the  child,  especially  as  you  are  not  ex- 
actly what  I'd  call  calm  even  now,  in  spite  of  the  wet. 
Marjorie's  not  expecting  to  see  you  in  the  least.  Her 
emotion  on  catching  sight  of  you,  the  natural  out- 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  255 

burst  of  her  deeply  affectionate  nature,  would  be  too 
much  for  her.  She'd  very  likely  drop  the  illuminated 
address  and  entirely  disorganise  the  other  fairies. 
Now  I  feel  sure  that  you'd  like  Marjorie  to  appear 
at  her  very  best  on  an  occasion  of  this  kind.  As  a 
member  of  the  Parents'  Union,  you  naturally  want 
your  child  to  do  credit  to  the  excellent  education 
you've  given  her.  Therefore  you  won't  mind  waiting 
a  few  minutes  until  this  function  is  over." 

Mrs.  Purvis  glared  at  him  in  silent  rage. 

"  I'm  sorry,"  said  Meldon,  "  that  you're  getting  so 
wet.  But  that's  not  my  fault.  I  wanted  you  to  go 
into  the  stable,  but  you  wouldn't.  Why  don't  you 
put  up  your  umbrella?  It  would  be  a  great  deal  bet- 
ter to  use  it  in  the  regular  and  natural  way  for  keep- 
ing off  rain,  than  to  be  breaking  panes  of  glass  with 
its  handle." 

A  loud  cheer  rose  from  the  street  in  front  of  the 
hotel.  Meldon  was  almost  certain  that  he  taught 
Paudeen  Canavan's  voice  at  the  beginning  of  it. 

"  The  Marchioness  of  Chesterton  has  kissed  Mar- 
jorie," he  said.  "Now  aren't  you  pleased?" 

There  was  another  and  a  still  louder  cheer. 

"  I  think,"  said  Meldon,  "  that  the  Lord  Lieuten- 
ant must  be  kissing  her  too.  That  will  be  as  good  to 
her  as  being  presented  at  court.  You  ought  to  be 
proud  of  your  daughter,  Mrs.  Purvis.  I  don't  sup- 


256  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

pose  there's  another  girl  in  the  whole  of  Australia 
who's  been  kissed  by  a  Lord  Lieutenant ! " 

A  third  cheer  followed,  and  then  a  fourth.  Meldon 
was  a  little  puzzled. 

"  Either,"  he  said,  "  the  Lord  Lieutenant  is  kissing 
the  whole  eight  leprechauns  —  which  is  hardly  likely 
—  or  else  the  private  secretary  and  Father  McCor- 
mack  are  kissing  Marjorie.  Perhaps,  Mrs.  Purvis, 
you  and  I  had  better  be  going  in.  I  don't  want  the 
thing  overdone.  There's  a  large  crowd  outside,  as 
you  can  judge  by  the  cheering.  It  wouldn't  do  if 
they  all  took  to  kissing  Marjorie.  I'll  just  unlock 
the  scullery  door  and  show  you  the  way  through  the 
hotel,  and  then  we'll  be  able  to  see  for  ourselves  what 
is  actually  happening." 


CHAPTER  XX 

MELDON  opened  the  scullery  door,  and  Mrs. 
Purvis  walked  across  the  yard  towards  it. 
Her  gait  was  dignified  and  stately;  but  the  impres- 
siveness  of  her  approach  was  spoiled  by  the  appear- 
ance of  her  clothes.  They  were  wet  to  the  point  of 
being  draggled.  Meldon  bowed  as  she  passed  him. 
She  took  absolutely  no  notice  of  his  salutation. 

"  Allow  me  to  show  you  the  way,"  he  said.  "  This 
hotel  is  old,  and  bits  have  been  added  on  to  it  from 
time  to  time.  The  back  passages  are  most  compli- 
cated and  liable  to  be  confusing  to  anyone  who  doesn't 
know  them  intimately." 

Mrs.  Purvis  still  ignored  him.  She  passed  through 
the  kitchen  without  so  much  as  a  glance  at  the  cook, 
who  was  intent  on  the  chops  she  was  dishing  for  the 
Lord  Lieutenant.  Outside  the  kitchen-door  Mrs. 
Purvis  turned  to  the  right. 

"  I  don't  wish  to  interfere  with  your  freedom  of 
action  in  any  way,"  said  Meldon,  "but  that  passage 
leads  to  nothing  except  Mr.  Doyle's  bedroom.  If 
you  want  to  tidy  your  hair  or  put  your  hat  straight, 
wouldn't  it  be  better  for  you  to  see  the  housemaid? 
I  don't  mean  to  suggest  that  Mr.  Doyle  will  grudge 
257 


258  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

you  the  use  of  his  bedroom;  but well,  you  can 

guess  that  his  comb  isn't  very  often  washed.  I 
shouldn't  like  to  run  it  through  my  hair.  Besides, 
I'm  sure  he  won't  have  hairpins;  and  you'll  want 
them,  won't  you  ?  " 

Mrs.  Purvis  turned  without  a  word.  She  set  off 
in  a  fresh  direction.  Meldon  followed  her.  At  the 
end  of  the  passage  she  tried  next  there  was  a  swing- 
door  of  green  baize. 

"That  door,"  said  Meldon,  "leads  into  the  milli- 
nery department  of  the  shop.  I'm  not  offering  you 
any  advice.  I'm  merely  mentioning  the  fact.  Per- 
haps you  want  to  buy  a  new  hat,  and  if  so  you're 
going  to  quite  the  right  place.  But  I  wouldn't  run 
into  that  sort  of  extravagance  if  I  were  you.  I'll 
explain  to  the  Lord  Lieutenant  that  you've  had  a  long 
drive,  and  can't  be  expected  to  be  in  regular  court 
dress.  He'll  understand  at  once." 

Mrs.  Purvis  went  back  again  to  the  kitchen.  Still 
ignoring  Meldon,  she  addressed  the  cook. 

"  Will  you  kindly  show  me  the  way  into  the  hotel  ?  " 
she  said. 

But  the  cook  was  in  no  mood  for  guiding  strangers. 
The  responsibility  of  preparing  a  feast  for  a  Lord 
Lieutenant  was  weighing  heavily  on  her.  It  was  not 
a  thing  she  had  ever  done  before,  and  she  had  re- 
ceived a  good  deal  of  advice  and  instruction  from 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  259 

Meldon  in  the  course  of  the  morning.  Her  temper 
was  seriously  affected. 

"  Let  them  that  brought  you  here  bring  you  away 
again,"  she  said. 

"  I  assure  you,"  said  Meldon,  apologetically,  to  the 
cook,  "  I'm  most  anxious  to  show  the  lady  the  way 
into  the  hotel,  and  I'm  in  no  way  responsible  for  her 
coming  in  here.  By  the  way,  I  hope  you  remem- 
bered what  I  said  to  you  about  the  egg  and  bread- 
crumbs for  the  chops.  That's  what  makes  them  into 
cutlets,  and  it's  most  important.  No  Lord  Lieuten- 
ant can  be  expected  to  sit  down  to  an  ordinary  chop 
—  not  so  long  as  he  is  a  Lord  Lieutenant.  At  home, 
of  course,  he  often  has  to,  like  the  rest  of  us." 

"  Unless  the  two  of  you  is  out  of  this  by  the  time 
I  have  the  peas  dished,"  said  the  cook,  "  I'll  fling  the 
water  they  were  boiled  in  over  you.  Is  there  noth- 
ing else  you  can  find  to  do,  the  pair  of  you,  only  to 
come  tormenting  me  this  day  of  all  days  in  the 
year?" 

"  I  really  think,  Mrs.  Purvis,"  said  Meldon,  "  that 
we'd  better  go.  I  don't  say  that  the  water  the  cook 
mentions  would  make  you  any  wetter  than  you  are. 
It  couldn't.  But  it  would  be  rather  humiliating  to 
have  it  thrown  at  you.  Try  the  steps  just  outside 
the  kitchen-door.  They  don't  look  as  if  they  led  into 
the  hotel,  but  they  do." 


a6o  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

Mrs.  Purvis  descended  three  stone  steps  and  found 
herself  in  a  very  dark  passage,  floored  with  damp 
flags.  She  paused.  She  suspected  that  Meldon  was 
leading  her  into  some  underground  cellar,  and  she 
had  no  desire  to  find  herself  locked  into  an  oubliette 
from  which  it  might  be  very  difficult  to  escape. 

"  I  assure  you,"  said  Meldon,  "  that  you're  on  the 
right  track  now.  If  you  give  me  your  word  of  hon- 
our not  to  hit  me  on  the  head  with  your  umbrella  as 
I  pass,  I'll  go  first  and  lead  the  way." 

Mrs.  Purvis  declined  to  give  the  required  assur- 
ance, but  she  ventured  a  little  farther  along  the 
passage.  At  the  end  of  it  was  a  steep  flight  of  nar- 
row wooden  stairs  leading  to  another  baize  door. 
She  opened  this  and  found  herself  in  the  coffee-room 
of  the  hotel.  It  was  littered  with  the  cloaks,  hats, 
and  umbrellas  of  Marjorie's  leprechauns.  Mrs.  Pur- 
vis, after  a  glance  round  her,  opened  the  door  and 
went  into  the  hall.  The  Viceregal  party,  accompa- 
nied by  Father  McCormack,  had  gone  upstairs  to 
luncheon.  The  leprechauns,  the  dressmaker,  the  ap- 
prentice, and  a  few  members  of  the  outside  public, 
were  discussing  the  proceedings  with  great  animation, 
The  Major,  his  oilskins  over  his  arm,  was  looking  on 
while  Mrs.  Gregg  and  Miss  Garnett  unpinned  Mar- 
jorie's wings  and  draped  her  in  shawls. 

"John!"  said  Mrs.  Purvis. 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  261 

The  Major  started  violently  at  the  sound  of  her 
voice. 

"  This  is  your  sister,  Major,"  said  Meldon.  "  I 
told  you  she  was  here,  didn't  I  ? " 

"  How  do  you  do,  Margaret  ? "  said  the  Major. 
"  I'm  very  glad  to  see  you.  I  hardly  expected  you'd 
have  been  here  so  soon." 

"  John,  we  will  go  home  at  once  and  take  Marjorie 
with  us.  There  are  several  things  I  should  like  to 
have  explained  to  me." 

"Certainly,"  said  the  Major — "certainly,  Mar- 
garet. Doyle  has  provided  a  covered  carriage  for 
Marjorie's  accommodation.  I  ordered  it  to  come 
round.  I  think  it's  at  the  door  now.  You've  noth- 
ing to  do  but  get  into  it." 

Mrs.  Purvis  took  Marjorie  sternly  by  the  hand  and 
led  the  way  to  the  door.  She  was  followed  by  Miss 
Garnett,  who,  like  Agag  the  Amalekite  in  the  pres- 
ence of  the  prophet  Samuel,  "  walked  delicately,"  not 
knowing  precisely  what  would  happen  next.  Mel- 
don stood  grinning  at  the  door  of  the  coffee-room. 
The  Major  grabbed  him  by  the  lappet  of  his  coat. 

"J.  J.,"  he  said,  "what  have  you  done  to  Mar- 
garet?" 

"  I've  been  most  polite,"  he  said  — "  politer  than 
I've  been  to  anyone  for  years  and  years.  I  recol- 
lected that  she  was  your  sister,  and  I  felt  that  you 


262  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

weren't  treating  her  very  well.  She  naturally  ex- 
pected that  you'd  have  gone  down  to  the  yard  to 
shake  hands  with  her,  especially  as  you  hadn't  seen 
her  for  more  than  twenty  years." 

"  I  don't  know  exactly  what  form  your  politeness 
took;  but  it  has  evidently  put  Margaret  into  a  pretty 
bad  —  I  mean  to  say  it  has  got  me  into  an  infernal 
mess.  The  least  you  can  do  now  is  to  go  back  to 
Portsmouth  Lodge  with  her  and  see  the  thing 
through." 

"  Certainly,"  said  Meldon.  "  I  accept  your  invita- 
tion with  pleasure,  unless  the  Lord  Lieutenant  has 
specially  requested  my  presence  at  lunch.  If  he  has, 
of  course  I  must  go  to  him.  You'll  understand,  Ma- 
jor, that  these  Viceregal  invitations  are  really  what 
are  called  commands.  The  most  horrible  conse- 
quences might  ensue  if  I " 

The  Major,  still  holding  Meldon  fast  by  the  coat, 
towed  him  through  the  hall  and  out  of  the  door. 
Mrs.  Purvis,  Miss  Garnett,  and  Marjorie  were  al- 
ready seated  in  the  carriage. 

"  Get  in,  J.  J.,"  said  the  Major. 

Meldon  obeyed  him  at  once,  and  took  his  seat  be- 
side Miss  Garnett  with  his  back  to  the  horses. 

"Come  along,  Major,"  he  said,  "there's  plenty 
of  room.  Marjorie  will  sit  on  her  mother's 
knee." 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  263 

The  Major  slammed  the  door  of  the  carriage  em- 
phatically. 

"  Portsmouth  Lodge,"  he  said  to  the  driver. 

Mrs.  Purvis  put  her  head  out  of  the  window. 

"  John,"  she  said,  "  I  insist  on  your  coming  back 
with  us.  I  shall  not " 

"Drive  on,"  said  the  Major.  "It's  all  right,"  he 
added  as  the  'carriage  started.  "  I  have  my  trap 
here.  I'll  be  after  you." 

Meldon  stood  up  and  winked  at  the  Major  over 
Mrs.  Purvis's  shoulder. 

"  Don't  wait  lunch  for  me,"  said  the  Major.  "  I 
may  find  it  necessary  to  attend  the  meeting  in  the 
afternoon." 

Paudeen  Canavan,  who  appeared  to  be  enjoying 
himself,  persuaded  the  damp  remainder  of  the  crowd 
to  raise  another  cheer  as  the  carriage  passed  along 
the  street.  Mrs.  Purvis  sat  back  in  her  corner. 

"  If  we  see  the  Major  before  night,"  said  Meldon 
cheerfully,  "  I  shall  be  surprised.  Once  a  man  ac- 
quires a  taste  for  Lord  Lieutenants,  he  simply  can't 
get  enough  of  them.  That  meeting  he  speaks  of  is 
the  merest  excuse.  He  doesn't  really  care  whether 
the  children  of  this  town  are  ameliorated  or  not. 
What  he  wants  is  to  hang  about  all  afternoon  with 
the  Lord  Lieutenant,  and  if  possible  to  get  Doyle  or 
Father  McCormack  to  introduce  him  to  the  private 


264  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

secretary.  The  Major  always  was  extraordinarily 
loyal." 

Nobody  took  any  notice  of  this  explanation.  Mel- 
don  addressed  himself  particularly  to  Miss  Garnett 
when  he  next  spoke. 

"  How  did  the  presentation  go  off  ?  I  hope  every- 
thing was  done  exactly  as  I  arranged." 

"Yes,"  said  Miss  Garnett. 

"  Did  you  all  wave  your  pocket-handkerchiefs  ? 
Did  the  whole  eight  leprechauns  clap  their  hands  and 
smile  at  the  right  moment?" 

"  Oh,  J.  J.,  it  was  lovely !  "  said  Marjorie. 

"The  Marchioness  kissed  you  all  right,  I  sup- 
pose?" said  Meldon. 

"Yes!"  said  Marjorie,  "and  the  gentleman  too." 

"  Please  be  silent,  Marjorie,"  said  Mrs.  Purvis. 

"Obey  your  mother,  Marjorie,"  said  Meldon. 
"  You  ought  to  do  so  even  if  it  is  unpleasant  for  you. 
I'm  sorry  you  have  to,  for  there  are  several  things  I 
want  to  ask  you ;  but  I  won't  ask  them.  I  shouldn't 
like  to  lead  you  into  temptation.  I'll  get  Miss  Gar- 
nett to  tell  me  the  rest  of  what  I  want  to  know  some 
other  time.  I  hope,  Miss  Garnett,  that  you'll  be  able 
to  recollect  whether  anybody  else  kissed  Marjorie.  I 
have  a  strong  suspicion  that  both  Father  McCormack 
and  the  private  secretary  did ;  though  I  don't  think 
they  had  any  right  to.  I  also  want  to  know  whether 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  265 

Doyle  and  I  were  missed,  and  whether  any  inquiries 
were  made  after  us.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  Doyle  was 
up  in  the  hayloft,  and  had  to  stay  there.  He 
couldn't  help  himself.  I  was  trying  to  make  myself 
agreeable  to  Mrs.  Purvis.  I  hope  Doyle  will  explain 
the  circumstances  to  his  Excellency.  I  shouldn't  like 
to  be  thought  wanting  in  proper  respect." 

Miss  Garnett  smiled,  and  then  turned  her  head 
hastily  and  looked  out  of  the  window. 

"  I  can't  tell  you,"  said  Meldon,  addressing  Mrs. 
Purvis  again,  "  what  a  pleasant  time  we've  had  since 
Marjorie  came  here.  She  has  wakened  us  all  up. 
We  have  quite  a  long  list  of  festivities  ahead  of  us 
—  boating  parties,  picnics,  dances,  and  a  paper  chase. 
This  presentation  to  her  Excellency  is  only  the  begin- 
ning of  what  I  may  call  the  Ballymoy  season.  I  hope 
you  intend  to  make  some  stay  with  us.  I  assure  you 
you  will  enjoy  yourself  if  only  the  weather  takes  up." 

The  carriage  reached  Portsmouth  Lodge  at  last. 
Meldon  helped  Miss  Garnett  to  alight  and  lifted  Mar- 
jorie out.  Then  he  offered  his  hand  to  Mrs.  Purvis. 

"  Please  stand  aside,"  she  said. 

She  stepped  with  great  dignity  from  the  carriage 
and,  ignoring  Meldon,  turned  to  the  driver. 

"  You  will  wait,"  she  said,  "  for  half  an  hour,  and 
then  take  me  back  to  Donard.  I  shall  catch  the  night 
mail  to  Dublin." 


266  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

"  But  you  must  have  something  to  eat  first,"  said 
Meldon.  "  I'll  tell  Mrs.  O'Halloran  to  get  up  lunch- 
eon at  once.  I  daresay  you'll  see  things  in  a  rosier 
sort  of  light  when  you've  had  a  slice  of  cold  beef. 
I  don't  blame  you  in  the  least  for  thinking  now  that 
the  only  thing  to  do  is  to  take  Marjorie  away.  We're 
all  pessimistic  when  we're  hungry.  After  luncheon 
—  I'll  get  as  decent  a  one  as  I  can  out  of  Mrs.  O'Hal- 
loran —  you'll  be  much  more  inclined  to  stay  on  a  bit." 

"  Kindly  send  a  maid,"  said  Mrs.  Purvis  to  Miss 
Garnett,  "to  show  me  my  daughter's  room,  and  to 
help  me  in  packing  her  clothes." 

Miss  Garnett,  who  seemed  glad  of  an  excuse  for 
escaping  from  Mrs.  Purvis,  went  to  the  kitchen  to 
find  Mary  Garry. 

"  By  the  way,"  said  Meldon,  "  if  you  are  packing 
Marjorie's  clothes  —  I  wish  you  wouldn't;  but  if  you 
insist  on  doing  it  —  don't  blame  the  Major  too  se- 
verely about  the  tear  in  her  blue  dress.  It  was  his 
fault,  of  course;  but  he  fully  intended,  acting  on  my 
advice,  to  get  her  a  new  one  exactly  the  same  in  every 
respe'ct.  And  another  thing  I  ought  to  mention  be- 
fore Mary  Garry  comes.  If  you  take  Marjorie  you'll 
have  to  take  Miss  Garnett  too.  You  can  see  your- 
self that  it  would  never  do  to  leave  the  poor  girl  here 
with  the  Major.  It  would  be  a  most  equivocal  posi- 
tion for  her." 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  267 

Mrs.  Purvis  crossed  the  room  and  rang  the  bell 
with  some  violence. 

"  I  wouldn't  do  that,  if  I  were  you,"  said  Meldon. 
"  Nothing  irritates  Mrs.  O'Halloran  more.  And  if 

once  you  get  her  back  up Ah!  there  you  are, 

Mary  Garry.  I'm  glad  you've  come.  I  was  half 
afraid  we  were  going  to  have  a  repetition  of  the 
scene  there  was  over  Miss  Garnett's  tea." 

"  Show  me  Miss  Marjorie's  room  at  once,"  said 
Mrs.  Purvis. 

"  One  moment,"  said  Meldon.  "  Was  the  tooth- 
brush brought  in  from  the  yacht  on  Saturday?  If 
not,  I'd  better  go  and  fetch  it  at  once." 

Mrs.  Purvis,  without  waiting  for  Mary  Garry's 
guidance,  walked  upstairs.  Meldon  followed  her 
slowly.  She  entered  the  first  room  she  came  to,  and 
slammed  the  door  in  Meldon's  face. 

"  That's  your  brother's  room,"  he  said.  "  You  can 
see  that  at  a  glance  by  the  razors.  But  it's  all  right. 
If  you  like  to  stop  there  I'll  give  Mary  Garry  direc- 
tions about  the  packing." 

Mrs.  Purvis  came  out  again  and  stalked  down  the 
passage  to  the  door  at  which  Mary  Garry  was  stand- 
ing. She  entered  it,  and  again  shut  the  door. 

"  You  won't  forget  what  I  said  about  Miss  Gar- 
nett,"  said  Meldon.  "  I  don't  like  to  be  shouting 
things  of  the  sort  out  loud  for  Mary  Garry  to  listen 


268  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

to;  but  if  you  don't  mind  putting  your  ear  to  the 
keyhole  for  one  moment  I'll  whisper  what  I  want  to 
say." 

He  stooped  down  as  he  spoke. 

"If  you  don't  take  Miss  Garnett  with  you,"  he 

whispered,  "  she'll  very  likely You  know  what  I 

mean.  You  can  see  for  yourself  that  she's  very  at- 
tractive. You  may  want  that,  of  course.  I  don't 
say  it  would  be  a  bad  thing  for  the  Major.  But  you 
ought  to  make  up  your  mind  to  it,  if  you  leave  her 
here.  There's  no  use  your  thinking  that  I'm  the 
person.  I'm  not.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  I'm  engaged 
already.  I  don't  press  the  consideration  on  you,  but 
for  Marjorie's  sake  I  can't  help  reminding  you  that 
there  is  the  little  property.  I  don't  know  that  you 
can  afford  to  neglect  that.  But,  of  course,  if  there 
was  to  be  a  Mrs.  Kent  —  I  needn't  go  into  other  pos- 
sibilities. You'll  think  it  all  out  for  yourself  while 
you're  packing.  I'll  just  run  off  now  and  put  a  dab 
of  vaseline  on  Marjorie's  bicycle  to  keep  the  rain 
from  rusting  it.  I'll  tie  it  on  the  top  of  the  carriage 
for  you  —  if  you're  really  bent  on  going.  Good-bye." 

An  hour  later  Marjorie  bade  a  sorrowful  and  af- 
fectionate farewell  to  Meldon.  The  carriage,  with 
Miss  Garnett  in  it  as  well  as  Mrs.  Purvis  and  Mar- 
jorie, drove  off.  Mrs.  O'Halloran  and  Mary  Garry 
stood  weeping  on  the  doorstep  of  Portsmouth  Lodge. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

AT  five  o'clock  Major  Kent  returned  home.    He 
found  Meldon  seated  before  a  good  fire  in  the 
study,  smoking  quietly. 

"They're  gone,"  he  said,  as  the  Major  entered. 
"Your  sister,  Marjorie,  and  Miss  Garnert.  Gone, 
with  all  their  belongings." 

"  I  saw  them,"  said  the  Major.  "  Margaret 
stopped  at  the  hotel  to  pick  up  her  trunk." 

"  I  hope  you're  pleased  now." 

"  She  left  me  to  pay  the  car  that  brought  her  out 
from  Donard.  She'll  probably  expect  me  to  pay  the 
carriage  that  takes  her  back." 

"You'll  also,"  said  Meldon,  "have  to  pay  Miss 
Garnett's  salary  and  travelling  expenses,  and  an  al- 
lowance for  maintenance  for  the  six  weeks  she  ought 
to  have  been  here.  But,  on  the  whole,  you're  getting 
off  cheap.  You've  got  what  you  wanted,  and  it's 
always  worth  while  paying  for  that.  And  Miss  Gar- 
nett's gone  without  marrying  you,  which  is  more  than 
you  had  any  real  right  to  expect.  I  had  rather  a 
job  to  get  Mrs.  Purvis  to  take  Miss  Garnett.  She 
didn't  want  to  a  bit,  and  only  for  the  way  I  put  it  to 
her  she  wouldn't  have  done  it." 
269 


270  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

"I  wish,"  said  the  Major,  "that  she  hadn't  taken 
Marjorie  with  her." 

"What?" 

"I'd  rather  she'd  left  Marjorie  a  little 
longer." 

"  Well,  of  all  the  unreasonable  men  I  ever  met, 
Major,  you're  the  worst.  You  wouldn't  rest  content 
until  you  sent  your  sister  that  ridiculous  telegram. 
You  practically  drive  your  poor  little  niece  out  of 
the  house,  just  as  everyone  except  yourself  had 
learned  to  love  her,  and  then  you  say  you  wish  she 
was  here  still." 

"  That  telegram  was  a  mistake.  I  see  that  now. 
There  was  no  real  necessity  for  sending  it." 

"  Why  couldn't  you  have  owned  up  sooner,  then  ? 
If  you'd  told  me  even  as  late  as  this  morning  that  you 
didn't  want  Marjorie  to  go,  I'd  have  arranged  for  her 
to  stay.  I  enjoyed  having  the  child.  I'd  have  been 
delighted  to  keep  her  here  and  to  amuse  her.  I  let 
her  go  simply  because  I  thought  you  wanted  to  be 
rid  of  her." 

"  You  couldn't  have  kept  her,  J.  J. —  you  couldn't, 
really.     Once  I  sent  the  telegram  it  was  too  late  to 
do    anything.      You    don't    know    my    sister    Mar- 
garet." 
"I  do  know  her.     I've  spent  the  greater  part  of 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  271 

the  day  making  her  acquaintance,  and  I  know  her 
thoroughly.  I  could  have  kept  the  child,  and  I 
would  have  kept  her  if  I  hadn't  thought  you  were 
dead  set  on  getting  rid  of  her." 

"No,  you  couldn't,"  said  the  Major.  "You'd 
have  tried,  I'm  sure;  but  once  Margaret " 

"  My  dear  Major,  you  mustn't  think  that  every 
man  in  Ireland  is  afraid  of  your  sister  just  because 
you  are.  Have  I  shown  any  signs  of  funk  in  deal- 
ing with  her?  When  you  hid  yourself  in  the  bar  of 
Doyle's  hotel  to-day,  who  went  out  and  tackled  her? 
I  did.  And  I  kept  her  at  bay  in  the  yard  by  moral 
suasion  and  without  the  use  of  violence,  until  the 
presentation  was  safely  over.  Did  I  sneak  out  of 
driving  home  in  the  carriage  with  her?  You  did; 
but  I  sat  opposite  to  her  and  chatted  pleasantly  the 
whole  way  out.  It  was  I  who  induced  her  to  take 
Olivia  away  with  her,  very  much  against  her  will. 
Your  sister's  not  an  unreasonable  woman  at  all,  Ma- 
jor. She's  quite  easy  to  get  on  with  if  you  take  her 
the  right  way.  She  saw  my  point  at  once,  directly 
I  drew  attention  to  the  fluffy  nature  of  Olivia's  hair. 
Just  you  give  me  the  word,  and  I'll  go  off  this  min- 
ute and  fetch  the  child  back  from  Donard.  I'll  be 
in  plenty  of  time.  The  night  mail  doesn't  start  till 
ten." 


272  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 

"  Better  not,"  said  the  Major.  "  There'd  only  be 
a  row." 

"There  might  —  in  fact  there  would  be  a  row; 
but  I'd  get  the  child  in  the  end." 

"  Better  not.  I  daresay  you  could  do  it,  but  it's 
better  not.  Margaret  would  be  almost  certain  to 
come  back  with  her." 

"Very  well.  If  you  don't  want  the  child  there's 
no  more  to  be  said.  I  daresay  she'll  have  a  pleasant 
enough  time  seeing  the  European  capitals,  once  her 
mother  gets  over  this  little  outburst  of  temper.  I 
shouldn't  be  surprised  if  Purvis  himself  is  quite  fond 
of  the  child,  and  will  be  kind  to  her.  Anyhow,  it's 
a  pleasant  thing  to  reflect  now  that,  thanks  to  me, 
she  had  one  really  happy  day  while  she  was  here. 
There's  not  the  least  doubt  that  she  really  enjoyed 
presenting  that  address  to  Lady  Chesterton." 

"  I  daresay  she  enjoyed  riding  the  filly,  too,"  said 
the  Major,  "and  going  off  to  the  Spindrift  with 
Paudeen  Canavan ;  but  I  didn't." 

"  She  would  have  enjoyed  those  and  several  other 
things,"  said  Meldon,  "  if  you'd  given  her  time.  But 
you  fussed  her  out  of  her  life  with  police  and  coast- 
guards and  governesses." 

"The  fact  is,  J.  J.,  that  I'm  not  the  sort  of  man 
who  ought  to  have  charge  of  a  small  girl." 


THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE  273 

"  You  are  not,"  said  Meldon.  "  But  there's  one 
thing  you  may  congratulate  yourself  on.  You'd  have 
made  a  much  worse  mess  of  it  than  you  have  if  she'd 
been  the  sort  of  grown-up  professional  beauty  that 
you  led  us  all  to  expect." 


THE  END 


..^SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILIT 


A     000037949     5 


